When Skies Are Grey
by AnthroQueen
Summary: There are so many words to describe their life together; hectic, wonderful, crazy, so insanely happy. It's never gotten easier; only better with time. It's them. It's perfect. And they wouldn't change a thing.
1. it's been said many times, many ways

**Good evening friends and family! Well... I'm very hesitant to post this, especially given the circumstances taking place on the show right now. Since we last chatted (i.e., since my author's note of "we're not broken, just bent"), I've decided I won't be watching any of 6B. It's better for my psyche and my general happiness and sanity that I don't know all the details that are happening with characters who I once loved and am now beginning to not even like. So instead, I've slipped into my own fantasy world and crafted a drama-free AU for Spoby and co. to survive in, post-trauma and post-A.**

 **So this is going to be a series of little family one-shots, the ones I described in my previous author's note, and I'm only hesitant because I don't know if you guys want or need to read mindless fluff when the real show is tearing apart your insides. But... I debated with myself for days over it and ultimately decided to post the first one _because_ the show is ripping your heart to pieces. Writing these has been very therapeutic and has made me incredibly happy and if I can just make even _one_ of you happy by default, then it'll be worth it. Still, let me know, honestly, what you think. This may or may not be the last time you see me. Who am I kidding? It probably won't be, let's be real.**

 **Keep in mind, this is the family I introduced to you first in "I'll set the table, you can make the fire," and so it really feels like we've come full circle, here. But that also means that this universe is very limited. I wrote that story after the season 4 finale aired and so that means that all of the circumstances from seasons 5 and 6 have not taken place (i.e., Toby never became a cop, Spencer never cheated on him, CeCe wasn't fucking -A, they never broke up, etc.). It's sad to think that times were better back then, but they were, if you think about it. I guess I'll forever be living in the past. Here's this story if you'd like to join me.**

 **By the way, thank you so, SO much for your amazing words on my previous story. You guys all mean so much to me and I don't know what I'd do without you. As usual, I have no idea what this is. It's random. It came out of nowhere. Hopefully, it takes your mind off of things. Maybe it won't, I don't know. You know I'm always here to talk, friends, and you're always welcome to rant away, but don't expect me to know what you're talking about if it concerns the most recent episodes. This is where my inner two-year-old comes out- I'm not watching and you can't make me! :P The chapter title is from "The Christmas Song" because it's a Christmas-themed chapter in February, look at that! And the story title is from "You Are My Sunshine," because I'll never get over it, let's be honest.  
**

 **(Holy shit that was a long-ass author's note I love you all so much sorry I'm so annoying bye)**

* * *

although it's been said many times, many ways

"God rest ye merry gentlemen, lead nothing you to stray-"

" _Let_ nothing you _dismay_."

"Remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas day. To save us all from Satan's hours when we were born astray-"

"To save us all from Satan's _power_ when we were _gone_ astray."

"Stop correcting me!"

"Then sing it right!"

"Grace, pass the milk, please!"

"You already put the milk in!"

"Wait, I need flour. No, two cups! Not three!"

"We three kings of orient are; wearing gifts we travel so far."

" _Bearing_ gifts we _traverse afar_."

"Stop it!"

"You don't even know the right words!"

"Turn the mixer on for me! No! Not too fast!"

"Fields and fountains, moors and mountains-"

"Oh my god, _nothing_ has an S on it!"

"Can you please just give me an egg?"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Then sing the right words!"

"Stop it!"

With every uttered sentence, Spencer grows more and more agitated. The kids have been home for Christmas break for two days and are already getting on each other's nerves and, if she's being honest, hers, too. She's beginning to wonder where their holiday cheer has gone, for they've been doing nothing but arguing since the moment they stepped off the school bus two days prior. Grace had woken up this morning, Christmas Eve, with the idea to bake Christmas cookies, something Henry and Lilly eagerly asked to be a part of, and so their mother had trusted the almost-fifteen-year-old in the kitchen with her siblings, mostly unsupervised. They'd made M&M cookies to start with no issue and had since moved on to sugar, but Grace's patience is running thin and Spencer can tell it's only moments before she blows her top.

She, too, had been ready for a holiday break and so when Grace had asked her if baking was okay, Spencer had agreed, no questions asked. She's currently sitting in an armchair by the Christmas tree in the living room, a book in one hand and a cup of cocoa in the other, the wind howling outside and rattling branches against the window. Toby's taken the liberty of locking himself in the basement, wrapping last minute gifts because he, unlike his wife, hadn't had all things bought and wrapped by the end of the first weekend of December. He always tells her she's _too_ prepared, but she disagrees. Certainly there's no such thing when it comes to the holidays with her family, after all.

"Stop! Just give me the brown sugar!"

"No!"

"Henry, you're making them too big!"

"No I'm not! I used the cutter!"

"Hey! You sprinkled sugar on me!"

"Yeah and it's sweet so maybe it'll make you nicer!"

"Me? You're the one on Santa's naughty list!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul! With a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal!"

"No, that's why I gave you the plastic one!"

"Those wouldn't even cut the dough!"

"Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul! With a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal!"

"Grace, it's too close to the edge!"

"No, it's not, it's fine."

"Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul! With a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal!"

"Learn more words or stop singing!"

"I don't know the rest!"

"Then _shut up!_ "

"It's too close to the edge!"

"No it's _not!_ "

 _Crash_.

Spencer sighs and stands, her book and mug abandoned, heading for the kitchen. She should've known and honestly, she probably should have intervened moments ago. As she enters the room, all three children are gathered around the mess and Henry shouts, "You're in trouble!" just as Lilly squeals, "I _told_ you so!"

Spencer asks, simply, "What happened?"

"The bowl slipped," Grace says and she looks so utterly disappointed in herself that it makes Spencer's heart ache. "I thought it was closer but… Now it's ruined!"

Glancing at the floor, Spencer notes one of her glass mixing bowls is shattered into a dozen pieces, soupy cookie batter splattered in between the glass shards. "Are any of you hurt?"

All three heads shake simultaneously and she says gently, "Okay, go wash your hands, take a break and don't come near the glass. I'll get this sorted out, okay?"

They nod and Henry races out of the room, Lilly following suit but first expressing, "I'm sorry we broke your bowl, Mom."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself," Spencer tells her. "Go wash up. You've got flour on your cheek."

Lilly blushes and wipes at her face before turning and leaving the room. Grace heaves a sigh. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well it was," Spencer says. "I used to have five mixing bowls and now I have four."

Grace frowns. "It's tradition to make cookies on Christmas Eve and you usually help but… But I wanted to see if I could do it."

"You can," Spencer assures her. "There's a whole batch of M&M cookies up there that proves it."

"Yeah, but these are the _fun_ ones. And Henry was so annoying with his stupid songs and Lilly kept getting the ingredients wrong," Grace sighs. "I should've done this with you."

Spencer says, "They're younger than you. You have to remember that. They haven't been doing this as long as you have and they don't know. But this is still part of the fun for them. They're eight and six and they still believe in the magic of the season. They're not ready for everything to be perfect yet, even if you are."

Grace sighs. "It sucks being the oldest. It totally sucks."

Spencer chuckles. "I know, I'm sorry."

"No you don't. You're the youngest." Grace teases. "I guess I'll just have to talk to Aunt Melissa about this. I bet you were a total Henry, too."

"I don't know, I think I was more like you," Spencer disagrees. "Wanting everything to be perfect. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, you know?"

Grace giggles. "I guess not."

When the glass is cleared away and the mess is all mopped up, Lilly and Henry return and the four of them begin a brand new batch of sugar cookies, each of the kids eagerly crafting holiday shapes with their plethora of cookie cutters. Spencer's mainly their dishwasher, but she's supervising, merely supervising, as this round goes much smoother than the last. Grace rolls out the dough, Henry forms the shapes and Lilly places each cookie on the baking tray, dusting each with red and green sprinkles. And as they're lifting their cookies into the oven, Toby returns from his gift wrapping spree and stands at the threshold of the kitchen, observing. He inhales deeply and a grin paints itself across his face.

"It smells amazing in here," He compliments instantly. "You've clearly been hard at work."

"Yeah and we only broke one thing," Henry points out and Lilly shakes her head, smiling.

"We could've kept that a secret!"

"Yeah," Grace agrees. "Dad doesn't need to know about our failed batch, Hen."

"You broke something?" Toby asks. "What did you break?"

"Say goodbye to mixing bowl one of five," Spencer points out, nodding towards the trash. "And the first attempt at sugar cookies."

"My aunt gave us those mixing bowls for our wedding, remember?" Toby wonders. "The first and only time I'd ever met her."

"Hey, we got nice bowls out of it."

"You've had them since then?" Grace exclaims. "Ew, then they're like a million years old."

"Yeah," Lilly giggles. "Were you guys married before or after the Revolutionary War?"

"Come on, Lil," Grace jokes. "They were married on the _Mayflower_."

"Nah uh," Henry shakes his head. "They had dinosaurs at their wedding."

"Okay, ha, ha, you guys are all _so_ funny," Spencer rolls her eyes playfully. "Yes, Daddy and I have been together for a very long time, but would any of you be here if we weren't?"

"No," They chorus in unison.

"Exactly," Toby says. "So you're welcome, basically, for your existences."

"Even though it's funny, it's really good, too," Lilly then says. "A lot of my friends' moms and dads aren't together anymore. It's kinda sad."

"It's pretty pathetic actually," Grace adds. "Like you guys have been together since fire was discovered and Ian McKinley's parents got divorced when he was, like, two. Isn't that weird?"

"My friend Isla's parents never even got married," Henry chimes in. "They were just boyfriend and girlfriend and now her mom's got a new boyfriend. So weird."

"Well, families come in all different kinds," Toby says. "But I think ours works just the way it is, don't you?"

They nod their agreement. Henry perks up a moment later, asking, "You know what my friend Isla _does_ have, though?"

"Henry, not this again."

"The new Wii console!" Henry says and his parents sigh heavily. "She got it for her birthday but she wouldn't let me play it. She was the only one who got to. That wasn't fair."

"Video games aren't good for you," Spencer says as she continues to load the dishwasher. "They rot your brain, Hen."

"No they don't," Henry frowns. "Not if you only play for a little bit. And not if you play the good games! Like sports and racing and stuff."

"There are so many better things to do with your time, Henry," Toby lists. "Read a book, play outside-"

"I already do those things," Henry says. "But on the Wii, I can play sports or Mario games and I wouldn't play anything bad or scary!"

"You know, he's not wrong," Grace pipes up, biting into a sugar cookie fresh from the oven. "Some of their games even have educational benefit. It's not like he'd be playing _Halo_ or _Call of Duty_."

"What's _Call of Duty_?" Henry asks. "A telephone game?"

"No he won't," Spencer agrees. "Because I'd never buy those games and it's irrelevant anyway because we're not getting a game console."

"Why not?" Henry whines.

"Santa can't make that in his workshop," Toby tells his son, who frowns. "They don't have that kind of technology in the North Pole."

"Just forget it, Henry," Grace tells her brother. "Christmas sucks when you want the impossible, you know? I didn't get a pony-"

"Grace, you were _never_ getting a pony."

"- Lilly didn't get a trampoline-"

"Oh yeah," Lilly remembers and asks, "Why _not_?"

"So you can break your neck? I don't think so."

"- and you're not getting your Wii console," Grace finishes. "It's okay. Maybe someday we'll all get over it."

"Grace, you are the most dramatic person I've ever known," Toby comments. "And that's saying something considering I've been with your mother since Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin."

Lilly giggles, a hand covering her mouth, as Spencer shoots him a look, asking, "Et tu, Brute?"

"That was a good one, Daddy," Their middle child compliments. "I'm hungry. What's for dinner?"

"What do we always have for dinner on Christmas Eve, Lil?" Spencer asks. "I think the ever pressing question is do we order lo mein or fried rice?"

"We literally always debate this," Grace says, already pulling out the takeout menu. "And we _always_ get both."

Per tradition, they order enough Chinese food to feed a small army, listen to Christmas carols as they eat and then check the Santa Tracker online to see where he's destined to go next. After the children are each showered and in their pajamas, they gather in the living room, by the twinkling lights of their fragrant Christmas tree, in order to read _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_ , as they do each year. It's earlier than they usually go to bed, but Toby and Spencer are quick to remind them that the sooner they fall asleep, the sooner Christmas will be here to greet them. In reality, it's an excuse to get a little extra time to set up the gifts below the tree and get a little time to themselves. Once the milk and cookies are gone and each of the presents is stacked neatly, they curl on the couch together beneath a blanket, _White Christmas_ on the television, their hearts full.

"This movie is so good," Spencer comments as Irving Berlin and company sing about the wonders snow brings. "Unfortunately for us, I don't think we'll be seeing a white Christmas this year."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Toby agrees. "Not unless there's a drastic weather change tonight."

"It's getting late," Spencer yawns. "And you know they're going to wake up at like five a.m. to inspect them."

"Oh yeah," He says. "They're going to poke and prod us until we're awake."

"I think they'll be pleased, though."

"Are they ever not?"

"No," Spencer considers and then asks, "What were you wrapping today? I thought you'd finished like a week ago."

"Just a couple extra things," He shrugs. "I guess I'm not as on top of things as you are."

"I'll say," She jokes and then sobers a bit, saying, "Wait… What extra things?"

"Just a couple extra things."

"Repeating is not an explanation."

"An explanation would ruin the surprise."

She purses her lips. "Good Lord, what did you do?"

"I did nothing."

"Is it for me or for the kids?"

"Don't worry about it."

"That means me, doesn't it?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"You always do this," Spencer shakes her head. "We always agree not to give each other something for Christmas and you _always_ end up getting me something anyway."

"Like you're one to talk," Toby tells her. "Have you ever not gotten me something even though you said you weren't?"

"Only because I don't want to look bad next to you!" Spencer exclaims and then takes a mental step back and asks, "Wait, are we really arguing about which one of us is more generous?"

"We're terrible people," Toby says. "For the record, I love you and I love how generous you are and believe me, nothing could ever make you look bad."

"Thank you for saying that," She replies appreciatively. "I love you, too, and honestly, your gifts are always so thoughtful and perfect and it's because you know me so well, which I'm incredibly grateful for."

He chuckles. "Remember when we used to argue about real things?"

"Seems like a lifetime ago," Spencer grins and as she regards the pile of gifts beneath the tree, she adds, "You know that's going to drive me crazy though, right?"

"What is?"

"That I know what each and every one of those presents is," Spencer says. "Except for that one."

" _Those_ ones," He amends, nodding towards the cluster at the back. "And I think it's better as a surprise."

"See, that worries me, though. Why can't you just tell me?"

"I did tell you; it's a _surprise_."

She sighs. "It's for the kids?"

"It's something we can use as a family, I think," Toby shrugs. "That's all you're going to get."

"I'm going to hate it, aren't I? That's why you're not telling me?"

"Let it go, Spence."

"I'm not good at letting things go!"

"Well, that's the first step to recovery- admitting you have a problem."

She rolls her eyes. "Watch it."

"Come on," He laughs. "Let's go to bed. It's getting late."

She follows as he shuts off the TV and tugs on her hand, pulling her to a standing position. "You're a stubborn, pain in the ass, Toby Cavanaugh."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know."

"Unluckily for you," Spencer replies. "So am I."

"Don't you mean luckily?" He asks. "Makes life interesting."

"Babe, life's already interesting," Spencer points out and then adds, "We don't need any unnecessary drama."

"Hey," Toby says as they climb into bed, switching off the light. "There is a _lot_ less drama in our lives now than there was back in the day."

"Don't say 'back in the day.' It makes us sound eighty," Spencer comments and he snorts in response. "And second, we have just as much drama. Just a different kind."

"That's fair," He yawns. "But I'll take this kind any day."

"You can say that again."

"I'll take this kind any day."

"Toby Cavanaugh, I swear to God…"

Toby chuckles tiredly and says, in all honestly, "I'm so sorry you're stuck with me."

"Stop your nonsense," Spencer shakes her head. "I wouldn't want to be stuck with anyone else."

* * *

He hears a door creak open at 4:39 a.m. A brand new record, he's sure.

Way back when, he considered himself a heavy sleeper and he knows without a doubt Spencer still thinks he is. He supposes for the most part it's true; he doesn't wake up when she does and he doesn't even stir, not in the slightest, when she's bouncing around the room in morning, getting ready for work. But being romantically entangled with a girl who was in a heap of trouble in their teens meant he'd trained himself early on to keep an ear out for danger or anything out of the ordinary. He'd never missed a call, never missed a text, and was always ready to jump to her aid should she need it. A trait he'd rendered useful in his youth had actually only become all the more helpful now, as an adult, and with three young children. He's never the first to hear the slightest sound- he's sure Spencer's motherly intuition will always beat him to the chase- but he never misses a beat.

Despite the early hour and the fact that he and Spencer had literally crawled into bed not four hours prior, a grin finds its way onto his face. There isn't much that makes him happier than spending time with his family and adding the pure joy of Christmas to that only makes it all the better. They'd been blessed with three beautiful children, each of them grateful and happy, not a horror to be found in any of them. And nothing quite makes them more excited than the promise of Christmas morning. A second door creaks open and then a third, and three pairs of eager yet quiet feet in the hallway signify they're already heading for their tree in the living room. Hushed voices soon follow as they trek towards the staircase, their youngest the loudest of them all.

"Do you think he's still here?"

"Who? Santa? No, he's got like millions of houses to go to. He pretty much drops the presents and leaves."

"I hope he ate the milk and cookies. Do you think he brought any for Mrs. Claus?"

"Henry, _sshh!_ "

"I doubt he took them from us. He probably didn't even eat them. Everyone leaves him cookies."

"What do you think he brought us?"

"I don't know. He probably brought you coal."

"No! No he didn't, Grace!"

"Henry! _Ssh!_ "

Spencer heaves a sigh from beside him and Toby chuckles. "You pretending to be asleep too?"

"I mean, they could at least _try_ to be quiet, you know?" Spencer yawns. "They're already arguing like it's the middle of the day."

"They're just giving each other crap," Toby tells her. "That's what they do."

"How much longer do you think we can get away with pretending we're asleep?"

"Hmm. Let's find out."

She grins delightfully and kisses him full on the mouth. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," He returns warmly. "Let's make it one of the best."

"I don't know. It's got tough competition," Spencer says. "The one after we got engaged? At the ski resort? We had a suite with an indoor hot tub."

"Ah, yes," Toby nods. "We should go back there sometime. That place was great."

"And it snowed," Spencer sighs dreamily. "And there was champagne and celebrating."

"Or how about the one in France?" Toby adds. "It seems like forever ago that we were there. Grace was tiny."

"It was perfect, though," Spencer chuckles. "We found a tree farm after trudging around through the countryside, in the cold, for like three hours or something. And then we struggled carrying it up the three stories to our apartment. And we didn't have any ornaments except for a tiny Eiffel Tower and the ones Grace made in preschool."

"And Grace was terrified Santa wouldn't find her in France," Toby grins. "And we blew her mind when we told her he travels all over the world."

"Ooh, how about the one where I told you our family of three was going to become four?" Spencer suggests next. "And simultaneously got the truck to run again."

"Talk about a lifetime ago," Toby nods. "That was great, though. One of the best Christmas gifts ever. Getting the truck to run was an added bonus. That's what we're teaching them to drive in."

Spencer scoffs. "The hell we are. That hunk of junk?"

"Spencer it has _sentimental_ value!"

"It does," She agrees. "But it's like a thousand years old! My kids aren't going anywhere near that thing."

"It's fine. It has airbags."

"Oh my god," She shakes her head. "No. It's just… It's not happening. We have two other cars for that reason."

Toby stares at her a moment before saying, "I can't believe you called our truck a hunk of junk."

She smirks and replies, "Okay, I didn't mean it like that. You know I love it as much as you do-"

"I don't know that, anymore."

"-but you've got to admit it's terrifying how unreliable it is now," Spencer continues. "Need I bring up the brake failure incident that almost killed both of us?"

"Okay, _almost killed_ is a bit of an overstatement. We were fine."

"I'm not willing to take a chance on our children," Spencer says. "I'd like to keep them in one piece."

"Well so would I, obviously," Toby states. "I guess they can just admire it from afar."

"We can still tell them all about it," Spencer placates him. "I mean, they already know most of the stories, but still."

"That's true," Toby says. "Grace claims it's her favorite story."

"Lilly says it's super romantic," She chuckles. "Only Henry asked if I ever told Melissa."

"We are super romantic," Toby grins and then falters a bit to ask, "Wait, _did_ you ever tell her?"

"Are you kidding me?" Spencer exclaims. "Do you think I would live to tell the story if I did?"

"Christmas is as good a time as any."

She laughs wholeheartedly, replying, "Okay, well, if you say so. It's been a nice life. Make sure the kids are well fed and finish their homework in time and aren't falling prey to peer pressure or overwhelming themselves with too many activities. I'll watch you from the beyond- you're a single dad, now."

"Come on, that was _years_ ago. You were, like, seventeen," Toby shrugs. "She's _long_ since moved on from Ian. You still think she'd be upset?"

"Do you even know my sister?" Spencer shakes her head. "Melissa holds grudges like no one's business. It doesn't matter that she's married to someone else now or that Ian was a horrible person. She'd _destroy_ me and you'd be left alone to raise three kids by yourself."

"Speak of the devils," He then points out. "None of them have come to get us."

"Hey, yeah, you're right," She says, sitting up and pushing back the covers. "It's like almost six, now."

"They've also gotten very, very quiet," Toby frowns. "That's terrifying."

"Um, I think we should go investigate," Spencer decides, slipping out of bed with Toby not far behind her. "Last time it was this quiet, I found Henry in the dryer with a pillowcase full of clementines."

Toby chuckles. "That was a misunderstanding."

"That was the weirdest game of hide and seek _ever_."

The moment they open their bedroom door, the smell of crackling bacon wafts through the air and assaults their senses. It doesn't make them any less nervous; they've always toed the line between wanting their children to build their independence and wanting them to remain as safe as possible. Letting them loose in the kitchen is usually something they avoid, but to be fair, when their three children had awoken an hour ago, Toby had expected they'd do what they usually do on Christmas morning- paw through the gifts and marvel at whose was the largest. When they reach the kitchen, however, they find each of their children has a job to do. Lilly's at the stove, testing the bacon strips with a fork while, behind her, Henry is placing forks and napkins on a tray table and reaching for the refrigerator for juice. Grace has one eye on the coffee pot in the corner and one on the griddle before her, where she's making pancakes in the shape of snowmen, for the season. It brings a loving smile to both her parents' faces.

Spencer clears her throat and all six eyes snap in her direction. "Good morning? Merry Christmas?"

"Crap," Grace replies. "This was supposed to be a surprise."

"Merry Christmas, Mommy!" Lilly chimes in from the stove. "Merry Christmas, Daddy!"

"We made breakfast!" Henry beams next. "We were gonna bring it to you in bed, though."

"That's so nice of you guys," Spencer says, bending to kiss the very top of her son's head. "This is the best Christmas present ever."

"It was Grace's idea," Lilly informs her parents as Toby kisses her crown and reaches for a strip of bacon. "Be careful, Daddy! It's hot!"

"But Lilly, you did such a good job and it looks so good," Toby tells her. "I had to have one now."

She grins as Grace flips a pancake onto each of her parents' plates. Spencer watches her in awe and asks, "You did all this for us?"

Grace shrugs and nods towards the twinkling Christmas tree and accompanying presents, making sure her siblings aren't in earshot when she says, "You did all this for us."

From afar, Toby watches the grin on Spencer's face widen even further and when she collects her eldest daughter in a hug, his does, too. It's these moments right here that tell him he and Spencer must not be doing too poorly of a job parenting, after all. When everyone is fed and breakfast is cleared away, they return to the living room and open the small gifts in their stockings as the sun rises over the frost covered grounds outside. Carols are crooning into the morning and a fire is crackling just below the chimney and a white Christmas might be wishful thinking, but it's just as merry and bright as always. They've just finished unwrapping just about everything beneath the tree when Toby pulls out the final gift. It's a bit larger than the others had been and it's the one Spencer's been adamant about learning the identity of since the night prior.

"Who's that one for?" Grace asks first. "I thought we were already done."

"Weird, I just saw this one," Toby says. "It's addressed to the Cavanaugh family. Must be for all of us."

"Is it from Santa?" Henry asks, sitting up excitedly.

"It is from Santa," Toby nods. "Huh. Strange. Well, it's probably nothing. We'll put it away. Save it for next year."

"No!" They croon in unison.

"Dad, you can't do that to us," Grace adds. "We know it exists now."

"Yeah, but you guys said you were done," Toby shrugs.

"No!" Henry shrieks. "We're not done!"

"You aren't sick of opening presents yet?"

"No!" They agree together once more. "Can we open it? Please?"

"I don't know," Toby teases again and turns in his wife's direction. "What do you think, Spence?"

She looks almost as eager as the kids and still half anxious at the same time. "I say we open it, even though I'm afraid of what's going to come out of that box. It isn't alive is it?"

"Gracie, maybe it's your pony finally," Henry suggests and Grace laughs.

"The box is way too small for it to be a pony," Grace tells him. "Maybe next year."

"I don't think it's alive," Toby says, giving the box a shake. "Alright, I guess it's okay for you to open it. On one condition."

"What?"

"It's for all three of you, so you have to promise to open it together," Toby says and they all nod eagerly, crawling towards the present. "And whatever it is, you have to share it. Promise?"

"We promise!"

"Okay," Toby grins. "You can open it."

Six eager hands tear at the wrapping paper, cut through the tape and open the cardboard box and then, their eyes widen excitedly. Henry pumps his fist in the air and shouts, " _Yes!_ "

"Oh my god!" Grace exclaims and then seems to realize what this means. "Wait, how come Henry got what _he_ wanted but I never got my pony and Lilly didn't get the trampoline?"

"Henry knew how to dream a little smaller," Toby teases her and Grace shoots him a look, sticking her tongue out in response.

"Am I the only one out of the loop here?" Spencer asks but as she leans closer, Henry lifts the console out of the box.

"It's the Wii, Mom!" He shouts excitedly. "This is going to be _so_ much fun!"

"Look," Lilly points out. "There's enough controllers for all of us to play."

"And a couple games, too," Grace adds. "Wii Sports, Mario Party, Wii Sports Resort… Oh my god, _yes_. Mario Kart!"

As they continue to pull components of the console out of its packaging, Toby hesitantly glances over at his wife and gets the look he's expecting. She's less than pleased. "You didn't."

He half-shrugs. "Oops."

In mere moments, Grace and Lilly have assembled the console, hooked it to the television and set up the first game, Henry bouncing excitedly with all three controllers behind them. When they're deeply engrossed in a game of Mario Kart, racing fiendishly around Mario Circuit, Toby and Spencer begin to clean up the aftermath before heading upstairs to get dressed and prepare themselves for their annual trip to Rosewood for Christmas with her parents. She's applying a layer of makeup, swiping a mascara brush across her lashes and he's brushing his teeth, shooting her side-glances in an effort to read her; a task he usually finds easy but somehow, today it's increasingly difficult.

"To be fair," Toby says finally, breaking the silence between them. "I could've gotten them an Xbox. They could be blowing up cities and murdering pedestrians right now. But I didn't. I thought the Wii was safer because it's basically sports or Mario. See? Not as bad of a decision as it could have been."

She rolls her eyes. "It wasn't a bad decision. I just wish you could've let me in on the secret."

"Ironically enough, I thought you'd be mad," He says, rinsing his toothbrush under running water. "Which is what you are now, right? So yeah, I should've just told you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not mad at you."

"Could've fooled me."

"I'm not, honestly. You made them happy and that's honestly all I care about," Spencer says. "I just…"

He steps closer. "You just what?"

"I just don't agree with your choice," She tells him. "I don't like video games."

"I don't see what's wrong with them as long as the kids aren't glued to them 24-7," Toby says. "But you do, so please tell me what it is you're so worried about."

"They're just so dangerous," She replies. "You can set limits all you want, but I just don't want them to have to be in front of a screen to be stimulated, you know? I mean, there are _so_ many better options; playgrounds and museums and books and even their other toys. I'd just hate for them to lose interest in all of these other things because they now have this. Does that make me crazy?"

"No," He shakes his head. "It makes perfect sense. I guess I just thought that it wouldn't happen with our kids. They've always been hungry for knowledge and learning and nothing satisfies them ever, which has been fun to explore. They ask a million and one questions and they love school more than I ever thought possible. I guess I just assumed that they wouldn't become obsessed with video games like other kids are. Honestly, after the novelty wears off, they probably won't even look at it."

Spencer considers this before nodding. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I am?" He asks in surprise. "Wow. You gave in easy."

She shrugs. "It's Christmas. I don't want to dwell too much on this."

"Good," He nods. "We should go to New York, though, while the kids are still on break and visit the Natural History Museum, just in case. I think it's something they'd like."

"Are you kidding?" Spencer exclaims. "It's something they'd _love_."

When they return to the living room, the television is off and the game is already put away. Lilly's curled up with one of her brand new books, Grace is painting her nails a bright red and Henry's racing shiny Matchbox cars on his new track. Toby glances at his wife and says, "See? They're already over it."

"Not going to lie, that makes me feel a lot better," Spencer says. "Mario Kart is the worst."

"Mario Kart?" Toby asks. "Or all video games in general?"

"All of them," She shrugs. "That's what I meant."

"That's not what you said," He teases. "What's wrong with Mario Kart?"

"Nothing," She shakes her head. "We've got to get them dressed and ready."

"Seriously," Toby prods again. "What's wrong with Mario Kart?"

"Okay guys, come on," Spencer addresses the kids instead. "Time to get dressed. We're leaving for Grandma's in an hour."

"Wait, wait, wait," Henry announces to his sisters as they head for the staircase. "Let the champion go first. Losers go last."

Grace scoffs and shoves his shoulder none too gently, heading up the stairs as Lilly shakes her head and follows close behind her. At his parents' questioning look, Henry shrugs and says, "I crushed them at Mario Kart. They're still mad."

As he treads up the stairs, Toby says, "That's a little dramatic, isn't it? It's just a game."

"No Toby," Spencer disagrees and not for the first time, he feels out of the loop. "It's not just a game."

* * *

They've been awake for seventeen hours and honestly, Spencer doesn't feel it at all. Somehow, she feels as awake and rejuvenated as she ever as. Maybe it's the joy and the spirit of the Christmas season, a feeling she'd loved as a child and now loves even more as she watches her own children experience it. Maybe it's the love and the gratitude she'd received from each of her three munchkins as she'd tucked them into bed that evening; Henry had given her about fourteen kisses before telling her it was his best Christmas ever (he says so every year and she never grows tired of it). Or maybe it's the cup of coffee she's nursing, her fourth one today. It's ten o'clock at night and maybe she shouldn't be sipping liquid caffeine, but it's cold outside even if there isn't any snow and she and Toby have just exchanged gifts- in the craziness of the morning, they'd honestly forgotten- and it just feels like the right kind of time.

She's just admiring the beautiful new watch he'd gotten her- the one she'd worn for years and years had only just bitten the dust a few weeks prior- when she notices Toby's getting up from the loveseat beside her and reaching for the television remote. "What are you doing?"

"I've never played before," Toby shrugs and Spencer watches as he turns on the gaming console, popping in the Mario Kart disc. "Player one or player two?"

"Um, first of all, player one or player none," Spencer says and Toby rolls his eyes, handing her the first controller. "But second, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why are you so anti-video games?" Toby asks. "It's not a big deal."

"It is, though," Spencer insists. "Mario Kart is kind of like Uno or Monopoly. You know how many friendships and relationships it's ruined?"

"Okay, but it's us, and nothing's ruining us," Toby tells her as the game begins to load. "Choose a character and a kart. And teach me how to play."

"Hold down the button with the two on it and then steer," Spencer says, giving in and choosing Luigi. "It's really easy, honestly. Just win. And fight back aggressively because the computer will."

"Okay," Toby replies and, eyeing her choices, chuckles, "What the hell kind of kart is that? It looks like a box."

"It's his classic dragster! It's got the highest point of acceleration!" Spencer argues back. "Don't give me sass. You chose Yoshi _and_ a bike? Rookie mistake."

"For your information, bikes are easier to handle," Toby says. "And Yoshi's cool."

"Yoshi's a little bitch."

"I'm about to see a whole new side of you, aren't I?"

She grins. "Oh, it's been so long since I've competed against anyone for something. Feels good. Like coming home."

"Well, there's the Hastings game face. I'm in for it now," Toby teases. "Which course should we do?"

"Let's do Mario Circuit," Spencer decides. "Start you off easy."

"You're too kind."

The screen counts down and then the race is on. The second Spencer presses down on the acceleration, she remembers how dangerous this game can be. A rush of adrenaline fills her veins as she speeds past Peach and Bowser, winds around the turns and collects item boxes, scattering the course around her with banana peels and green shells. It's been too long; the last thing she can consciously remember competing in had been a tennis match back in junior year of high school. It's strange, but it had always been an important part of her life growing up and her parents had done nothing but add fuel to the fire, instigate a certain zeal for competition, and now that she's older, she doesn't quite get to milk that part of her personality anymore. It might be slightly sad how a simple video game can do the trick. But it's working. She's just started her third lap and when she glances to her left, she notices Toby's nearing the finish line. Her eyes narrow; she's in sixth place. Her dear sweet husband is in first.

"Hey, this game is kind of fun," Toby says. "I'm pretty much killing it."

Distracted, she slips on a banana peel and goes from sixth place to tenth. "Yeah. Sure. It's great."

"Wow," Toby teases a moment later and Spencer scowls. "You are literal shit at this game."

"I'm not. It's your first time," She shrugs and successfully passes Mario after hitting him with a red shell. "How are you so good?"

"Beginner's luck," He shrugs and nods towards the corner of her screen as his wife rolls her eyes. "What is that floating bullet in a box?"

"Bullet Bill," Spencer explains and presses the 'B' button, sending her soaring through the course. "That's what happens when you're so far behind everyone else."

"Aw, so it's like a helping hand? How cute."

"Ugh, shut _up_."

"Wait, what is this shit all over my screen?" He exclaims as a giant squid squirts ink across the entire television. "This game makes no sense!"

"It makes perfect sense." Spencer says and then frowns, exclaiming, "Did you just win?"

"… Maybe."

Spencer groans and tosses her controller aside as their final scores are ranked in a scoreboard. "This is ridiculous."

"Now I know why you hate this game so much," Toby gloats. "Because you _suck_ at it."

"I do not suck."

"Then what do you call that? It certainly wasn't good."

"I... let you win?"

"Please," He waves it off. "Rematch?"

"You're on," Spencer nods. "I'm going to crush you like a bug."

"If you can catch me, that is," He grins. "You know, you don't have to be good at everything. We've finally, after many, many years, found something you can't do. This is huge. This is like history in the making."

"Hey, it's been a few years, I'm a little rusty," Spencer defends herself. "I was never a gamer, okay? I read books. I played outside. I was never glued to a television and so I never had the time to hone my skill-"

"Excuses, excuses."

"But _anyway_ ," Spencer continues. "I don't hate video games because I suck at them. I mean, I _don't_ suck at them, but-"

"So you say."

"I hate them because they're bad for you. They really are. It's been scientifically proven and actually, just last week I was reading a new study done by the APA that cites-"

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Spence."

Spencer frowns. "I'm going to _crush_ you. And you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because your wife is always right, Toby."

"True that."

She chuckles as he chooses a kart, this time, and King Boo, and when they're ready, she asks, "A harder course?"

"I mean, do you think you can handle it?" Toby asks, concerned, and she rolls her eyes. "Mushroom Gorge? That looks like a scream."

"You have to bounce your way through the mushrooms without falling into the chasms," Spencer tells him. "Good luck. It's not easy."

"Hmm," Toby considers. "We'll see about that."

The race starts off as normally as it can, but just as they're reaching the first of the mushrooms, Spencer hops onto the first red one and Toby is hot on her heels. "What are you doing?"

"You know, you're right," He grins at her. "Karts _do_ have better acceleration."

"Wait, get away from me," Spencer replies. "I'm doing so much better. I'm in fifth!"

"Look, I'm in second," Toby says as his kart bounces to the adjacent mushroom. "Hey! First place _again_."

"We'll see about that."

Spencer collects an item box and receives a blue shell, grinning deviously. In one swift movement, she throws it ahead of her and speeds off the mushroom path so as not to be hit by the upcoming blast. It collides with Toby's cart and he explodes over the side of the mushroom into the deep cavern below. He's immediately up in arms. "What the hell was that?"

"What the hell was what?"

"Oh. Okay. You want to play like that?" Toby frowns, purposefully driving into the next item box the moment he regenerates. "You fight dirty. I see how it is."

"The only way I know how to fight."

"You're so dead."

"Try me."

She's in first now, on her final lap and just miles away from the finish line, but Toby's quick to catch up, with the help of Bullet Bill and a few speed boosts along the way. Spencer shakes her head, sitting up a little straighter. "Don't even try it, Cavanaugh. I'm kicking your ass here."

"I'm right behind you!"

"Yeah, _behind_."

And just when she thinks she's got it in the bag, Toby throws a lightning rod her way which shrinks her car into a tiny, miniature version of the dragster she's racing. Since she's so tiny, Toby, at full size, races past her and takes first place, crossing the finish line mere seconds before Spencer does. The latter is out of her seat with rage. "What the _hell?_ How could you do that?"

"Well, well, well," Toby grins. "You're just as terrible as I thought."

"Wait," Spencer frowns. "You're hustling me. This is not your first time. You're secretly amazing at Mario Kart."

"I am not," He laughs. "I got the hang of it. You're just mad I beat you."

"I am not mad," Spencer disagrees. "You're hustling me and we need to play again."

"Best two out of three?" Toby asks and she nods eagerly.

"If this ends badly, it might be the end of our marriage."

"Don't even joke about that!"

"Alright, we're taking on the worst of the worst, now," Spencer tells him as she chooses the next course. "The _hardest_ course on this game. Rainbow Road."

"Rainbow Road?" Toby implores. "Sounds harmless."

Spencer shakes her head. "It isn't."

As the screen loads, Toby is quick to ask, "Wait, where are the guardrails?"

"There aren't any."

"Wait, I'm really not hustling you. This is the first time I've ever-"

"Save it for the finish line!"

She watches as he aims for an item box and ends up pitching himself over the side of the road, falling to his death. Though at first this is hilarious, Spencer ends up spending so much time laughing at his misfortune that she soon finds herself losing control of her dragster and driving off the side of the winding rainbow. Cursing soon follows, from her, and snickering while haphazardly driving comes next, from him. She isn't going to lie; this course is _hard_. She's not sure she could complete it in first place even if she wasn't aggressively trying to outdo her husband. They're about halfway down the road on their second lap and both are rapidly declining; Spencer's fallen from first to tenth in mere moments and Toby's never left twelfth, the final place. It hasn't stopped them from trying to beat the other, though.

"Why is this course so hard?" Toby complains as he, once again, runs off the side of the road. "I swear if I plummet to my death one more time…"

"No, look, I'm actually doing pretty well," Spencer then says from her spot in sixth place. "I just need to get past Toad. Move the fuck over, Toad! This race is not for youngsters."

"Wait," Toby says as he regenerates and gains a Bullet Bill that garners him a spot in eighth place. "If you drive down the middle- and ram Bowser off the road- you can actually stay on here pretty well."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Spencer then asks as he picks up speed, hot on her tail. "You aren't going to beat me."

"We'll see about that."

"Yes we will!" She replies eagerly and tosses a handful of banana peels at his kart that send him slipping and sliding across the road.

"You're the worst," He sighs and gains a speed boost star right past her. "It's okay, you know. Just give up, throw in the towel. You can't be good at everything, Spencer. Let it go."

"Let what go?" She shoots back. "The only thing I'm going to be letting go is your hand as I dangle you off a cliff!"

"And how are you going to do that?" He chuckles as he launches a red shell in her path and her kart flips over itself. "You're dead. _Again_."

"No, _you're_ dead! Just wait until I regenerate and you're _history_ ," Spencer disagrees as they both cross the checkered line into their final lap. "This is it; it's now or never. Ride or die, babe. Ride or die."

"I'm mildly terrified of the stakes at hand, here."

"Good. You should be."

"Oh, look what I have here! An item box!"

"Don't you dare. Toby, I swear-"

"A blue spiny shell! You know what those can do, don't you?"

"Don't you _dare_ blue shell me! Do not even think about-"

"Ha ha! Now who's in first?"

" _Fuck!_ No! No! No, come on! Drive, Luigi! _Drive!_ "

"You'll never catch me now! First place never felt so good!"

"Go! Go! _Go!_ "

"Oh shit, what the hell is that?"

"Ha! Can't see through all the squid ink, can you? Maybe I'll just quietly- what the _fuck?!_ "

"You will quietly eat my Super Mario dust!"

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

"No! Go! Drive!"

"I'm almost there! I'm gaining on- _no!_ What the fuck? Why do you keep driving off the road?!"

"Gah! Lightning! I'm ant-sized!"

"It's not that hard to stay on the fucking track, Luigi!"

" _No! No!_ Get back on the course! What are you doing?"

"I swear if that red shell hits me- _God damn it!_ "

"If this POW block knocks me off the road _one more time_ …"

"No!"

"No! No!"

"What the hell?"

" _No!_ "

"Mom? Dad?"

Startled from their reverie, Toby and Spencer both turn in the direction of the voice to find all three of their children regarding them with mild amusement and extreme confusion. Henry's hair is sticking up in all directions, Grace is yawning with a hand clapped over her mouth and Lilly still has sleep in her eyes. It takes Spencer just a moment before she replies, a bit abashedly, "Sorry guys… Did we wake you?"

"Yeah," Grace says as though it's obvious. "You were screaming."

Henry rubs his eyes and says, "I thought you guys were getting hurt."

"What are you doing?" Lilly asks, half awake.

"Um…" Spencer trails off, setting the controller down and running a hand through her hair. "Dad's never played Mario Kart before so… We were testing it out."

Henry points at the screen and says, "You both ran off the road."

"We did?" Toby asks and when he turns around, the screen is displaying the end results, with him and Spencer in eleventh and twelfth place, respectively. "Oh. Oops."

"You guys are in last place," Grace yawns again. "You both suck at this."

"Okay, okay," Spencer hushes her. "I'm sorry we're so obnoxious. Back to bed now."

Toby nods his agreement and scoops a sleepy Lilly into his arms, who rests her head upon his shoulder and falls asleep on the way to her bedroom. As they're tucking Henry into bed, he offers to give both his parents pointers on how to improve their performance next time. As they're seeing Grace off to sleep, Spencer once again apologizes and somehow feels like she's the child here, not the parent. "I'm sorry we woke you up, Grace. I guess we got a little carried away."

Grace regards both of her parents before shrugging, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's fine. I actually think it's pretty cool."

Toby asks, "What is?"

"That you guys have been together longer than Adam and Eve," Grace explains. "And you still have that much fun together like you just met."

It's something that stays fresh in the forefront of Spencer's mind as she and Toby each get ready for bed. She's still grinning at the thought of her daughter's words as Toby switches off the light and climbs into bed after her. "What?"

"Nothing. Grace just raises a good point, that's all," She replies. "I think it's very reassuring that we're so secure in our relationship."

He chuckles. "I mean, I'd hope we're secure this far into it."

"You know what I mean," Spencer nudges him. "We can lob insults and profanity at each other and then move on like it's nothing."

Toby grins. "It _is_ nothing. That's the way you get. I know you don't mean it."

"Hey, you got pretty intense about it too."

"I guess you've really started to rub off on me."

"That being said," Spencer says. "I _will_ want a rematch at some point."

"You and me. Rainbow Road," Toby agrees. "It's going down."

"Name the time and the place," Spencer yawns. "I'm there."

"I think it's safe to say this Christmas is one for the books," Toby says. "It's been pretty memorable, hasn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Spencer's quick to agree, a grin upon her face. "One of the best."


	2. love is more than just a game for two

**Hello friends and Happy Valentine's Day! :D I love you all and I want you to know that you're all my valentines. Seriously. Everything is terrible right now but hey. We might as well have a little fun, right? Thus, this lovely Valentine's-themed chapter for you all. It fits a little better with the time of year than last chapter's did (Christmas in February, oops) so I thought it might be a nice surprise to post today haha. I really don't know how regularly I'll be updating because these always need a shit ton of editing (man, do I like to ramble for 20 plus pages LOL) but yeah. Thanks for sticking around. I can always count on you guys.**

 **Your reviews for the first chapter made me so happy! I love all of you and I'm so, so grateful you enjoyed my random musings. I have PLENTY more of these where that one came from. I'm only mildly (okay, moderately) shocked that you guys are so interested and want to keep reading, but extremely humbled and grateful, nonetheless. Just be patient with me, that's all. I'm a serious editor who's never satisfied with her own writing, a.k.a. my own worst enemy. :P But anyway, enough of my rambles. Thank you for your amazing words and your super nice reviews and for always being there for me. You're the best and most precious readers and reviewers a girl could ask for. Now do yourself a favor and get to the grocery store ASAP tomorrow to get some discounted chocolate. Y'all deserve it. Kisses and hugs! :)**

 **Oh, the chapter title is from "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole, which I'm sure you all remember from the 1998 hit movie classic, "The Parent Trap," starring a young, plucky, 12-year-old Lindsay Lohan before she had all her issues. Ah, the good ol' days...**

* * *

love is more than just a game for two

Spencer Hastings is never late for anything. But she's going to be late for work.

She's got a patient first thing, at nine, and it's pushing eight and there's always traffic on the highway and she has to oversee opening procedures and lead the morning meeting. She's just ripped a hole in her pantyhose and the flats she's worn for _years_ apparently don't fit her anymore and her hair looks absolutely ridiculous today, but she's never really cared about her appearance, anyway. It took her eight tries this morning- yes, eight, a new record- to get Henry out of bed and dressed in something festive and nearly twice as long to braid Lilly's hair, as she'd complained innumerous times that they were too tight, and then too loose, and then too messy. And of course, getting Grace motivated to do _anything_ is the struggle of the century; Spencer's afraid to find out, but she's absolutely positive her newly-turned twelve-year-old is still in her pajamas, brushing her hair.

She's going to be late; it's just a universal truth she's accepted, now. She tosses a pair of heels into her bag to change into later, upon the arrival to her office, and slips on her winter boots, because only now, in mid-February, has Pennsylvania decided to grace them with the presence of a winter wonderland. Swearing under her breath as she glances quickly at her watch, Spencer's not even sure she'll have time for a cup of coffee, at this point. No, that's ridiculous; she can't skip coffee. Her relationship with caffeine is the longest one she has and that equally impresses her and depresses her, honestly. She has a problem, but she supposes she's always had this problem and it isn't something she can change right here, right now, on Valentine's Day, of all days. Yanking open their bedroom door, Spencer makes a beeline for the stairs and tries to remember where she'd tossed her car keys the night prior as she shrugs on her winter coat.

But then, a scintillating aroma draws her into the kitchen and against her better judgment- she's going to be _so_ late- Spencer heads there, instead.

It's a scene she recognizes so fondly and also is somewhat foreign to her; all three of her children are perched at the counter, eating happily and quietly, which is only slightly uncommon for them- there's usually some kind of ruckus. Toby's alternating his attention between an open laptop on the kitchen counter, where he's typing furiously, and a waffle maker she hasn't seen in years, oozing batter out the sides. It dings a moment later and Toby flips one onto Henry's plate, warning, "That's your last one. I mean it, Hen."

"You're going to look like a waffle," Grace tells him. "Seriously. You'll start bleeding syrup and sweating butter. And everyone will want to eat you."

"Will not," Henry whines, tearing into his waffle. "That's _disgusting_."

Spencer can't help herself; she chuckles. Disgusting is Henry's word of the week and he's been using it quite frequently to describe everything in his life, from his sisters to his preschool teachers to all his tiny three-year-old troubles. Her laughter startles all four of them and her son is quick to bring her into the conversation. "Mommy, Grace is _disgusting_."

"Mom, at first I thought it was ridiculous that we all have to go to work and school on a holiday," Grace decides. "But now I realize this holiday is ridiculous, so it all balances out."

"Morning Spence," Toby says and pushes a coffee mug into her hands. "Happy Valentine's Day. Can you believe we still have this thing?"

She sips at her coffee for a moment before glancing at the waffle maker and asking, "The heart-shaped one? We haven't used that in ages."

"I found it in a box in the basement," Toby tells her, returning to the computer. "Don't worry, I washed it first."

Spencer glances at her watch and groans. "I'm going to be _so_ late, but I wanted to say goodbye, first."

"Mommy, I don't like pink," Henry whines, standing on the stool, on his tiptoes, to examine the cupcakes she'd bought for his class party that day. "Pink's for girls."

"Pink is for anyone who likes pink. Sit down, please," She asks and he plops back down, already dipping his waffle into some syrup. "Eat a red one, then. Or white. You don't have to eat pink."

"Why are you so worried about pink?" Grace teases. "You're a little girl, Henry."

Henry pouts and crosses his arms, smearing syrup across his clean shirt. "I am _not_ Gracie!"

"Grace, why do you have to torture him?" Spencer shakes her head. "And since when do you hate Valentine's Day? I don't remember you thinking it was this ridiculous last year."

"Valentine's Day isn't a real holiday, Mom. It was invented by Hallmark to sell cards and candy," Grace says matter-of-factly. "True story."

"She's just upset because Lilly and Henry get Valentine's parties and she doesn't," Toby fills in. "Valentine's Day isn't a big deal when you're in middle school."

"Ah," Spencer nods, reaching for a paper towel and wiping Henry's face. "Say no more."

"Well, okay, I go from fifth grade and getting a ton of Valentine's cards to sixth grade where I don't get anything?" Grace complains. "I just think that's dumb. And unfair, honestly."

"I'll get you a Valentine's card," Toby promises her, dumping dishes into the sink and his eldest daughter scoffs.

"Dad, I love you, but it doesn't mean the same thing coming from you," Grace tells him and Toby chuckles. "I need to change my shirt. I almost match Henry. That's a problem."

"I don't wanna match," Henry agrees. "That's disgusting!"

Grace turns for the stairs and Spencer calls to her, "Um, hello? Hug? Kiss?"

She turns back and obliges quickly, pausing to tell her mother, "You're so late. You should've left already."

"I'm aware, thank you. I'll see you later," Spencer says and instead, begins to help Toby load the dishwasher. "Off at six today?"

"Four thirty," Toby tells her. "Got the earlier out time after I moved some meetings around. Are you going to get Henry or should I?"

"I can get all three of them, actually," Spencer realizes. "My last appointment's at three fifteen."

"Okay," Toby nods and it's settled. "Hen, go brush your teeth and wash your sticky face. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

"Okay," Henry says and hops off the stool, reaching his tiny arms around his mother's waist. "Bye Mommy."

"Bye baby. Have a good day and I'll pick you up later," Spencer collects him in her arms and kisses his tiny cheek, tasting the sugary maple. "Listening ears on and helping hands?"

Henry twists imaginary switches next to his ears and gives her two thumbs up, beaming, "Ready!"

"Okay," She chuckles as he races up the stairs and, checking her watch again- she should be there by now, honestly- she glances over at her sweet middle child. "Almost finished, munchkin?"

Lilly nods and swallows the last bit of orange juice, sliding down to the floor. She's quiet- granted, Lilly's _always_ quiet- but there's something just a _little_ off about her today, so Spencer prods a bit further, "You okay, Lil? Are you excited for your party today?"

She shrugs and brings her plate and cup to the sink wordlessly. Turning to her husband, Spencer shoots him a probing glance and he explains, his voice low, "She's nervous about the card exchange; you know, if they'll like hers and if she'll get any."

Spencer frowns and, honestly, isn't extremely surprised. Everyone in Lilly's class had been mailed home a list of the names of the children in her class and so Spencer knows for a fact everyone contributes little cards and tiny boxes of candy into the handmade mailboxes they'd made in their kindergarten class together. But it isn't this logic that will remedy Lilly's social anxiety; she's painfully shy and much prefers to stick to those close to her, her stranger danger lasting long past her infancy. So far, kindergarten hasn't been easy for her; for the first few weeks, Toby and Spencer had received call after call from her teacher detailing the way Lilly keeps to herself, prefers coloring to dramatic play, and reads books in the corner of the room instead of actively engaging with her classmates. She cries, too, and those are the calls that really kill Spencer; picturing her tiny baby girl in tears in the middle of her classroom is enough to completely destroy her. Now, Spencer inhales a deep breath before kneeling before her daughter and saying, "Hey. I know you don't like parties, but you made some really cool valentines for your friends. I think they're really going to like them, don't you?"

Lilly nods slowly and Spencer asks, "Are you going to at least try to have some fun today? Eat a lot of candy?"

She hesitates before saying, "A lot of chocolate."

"Yeah," Spencer chuckles. "Chocolate's the best. Save some for me?"

Lilly agrees and Spencer reaches for her, holding her as close as she can. "I love you. No tears, okay? You're going to have a great day."

Lilly nods again and says, "Love you too, Mommy."

"Go brush your teeth, babe," Toby gently coaxes. "We're leaving in twenty- well, _fifteen_ minutes."

She hurries upstairs and Spencer stands to her full height, saying, "You should make her take the bus."

"She _hates_ the bus," Toby says. "I'm not putting her through that if I don't have to."

"But what does that teach her?"

"That I understand how shitty other kids can be," Toby explains. "And even if they aren't directly targeting her I'm not going to give them a chance to?"

Spencer sighs. "Fair enough. I'm going to be late."

"Spence, you're already late," He smirks. "You're _so_ late. Your appointment's in, what? Thirty minutes?"

"Twenty," She sighs and places her empty mug in the sink. "I need another cup."

"Already done," He tells her, handing her a travel mug. "I tried to make it like you do and I think I succeeded because I tasted it and now my heart's racing uncontrollably, so that's where we're at."

"You're the best," She grins and tucks the mug into her purse. "Seriously. You're a life saver."

"You're going to _need_ a life saver, soon. I can't believe you drink it like this."

"I'm fine. Have been for years," She insists. "I _have_ to go."

"Without breakfast?"

"No time. I'm _so late_."

He hands her a Ziploc bag with two heart-shaped waffles inside. "Breakfast on the go, then. I saved you the best ones."

"I honestly could not love you more."

Toby chuckles and says, "You say that _all_ the time."

"Because everyday, I keep thinking it's true," Spencer says. "But then I do. I love you more and more everyday and I still can't fathom how that's possible."

"Likewise," Toby grins. "But maybe it's because it's Valentine's Day."

"Somehow," She shakes her head. "I don't think that's it."

He reaches for her and she comes willingly, meeting his lips somewhere in the middle and allowing herself a few moments of bliss with her sweetheart, her forever valentine.

She's already incredibly late. What's a few more minutes?

* * *

"You'll never guess what I got."

"Herpes?"

" _Har har._ No. Reservations for Olivia and I at _Amour-Amar_."

"What the fuck is that? And who the fuck is Olivia? What happened to Hilary?"

"Hilary's old news, man. Get with the times. She was too busy bitching about her ex-boyfriend and the next thing I know, I find them in bed together."

"Dude, you sure you _don't_ have herpes?"

"Shut the fuck up. _Amour-Amar_ is _so_ hard to get into."

"I've never heard of it. Can't be that hard."

"It's the new European restaurant across from that Super Target on Isaac Street. You've heard of it, haven't you, Toby?"

Toby glances up from his place by the table saw, his new intern at his side, and is mildly at a loss for words. "What… What are we talking about?"

"Shit," Rich Davis says, shaking his head. "Never mind. I forgot you're training. Probably not even paying a damn bit of attention to my nonsense."

"And why would he?" Graham Hayes asks, a grin on his face. "None of us do."

" _Har har_ ," Davis repeats, rolling his eyes but extending a hand towards Toby's intern. "Nice to meet you, kid. You can call me Davis. You're lucky you've got Cavanaugh to teach you the ropes. He's the greatest one we've got."

"Thanks," Toby grins. "This is Miles. He's actually going into architecture, right?"

"Yes, sir," Miles nods and Toby decides he likes him already. "Your company is the one I hope to contract with when I graduate."

"Well, welcome to the team," Hayes says and then adds, "Have _you_ heard of _Amour-Amar_?"

"It's like Spanish and French fusion, right?" Miles asks and Davis nods.

"Exactly," He nods. "See? He gets it."

"Spanish and French fusion?" Toby asks. "That sounds like two cuisines that _do not_ mix."

"Well, he and Olivia will be able to give you the full report after tonight," Hayes says. "How did you two meet, anyway?"

"Cooking class." Davis shrugs.

"Cooking class? You don't cook."

"Hence, _the class_ ," Davis says. "Come on, you really think you can judge me about this? You met Molly online!"

"Hell yes I did," Hayes nods proudly. "And we've been happily married for five years, thank you very much."

"Can you guys get back to work on the blueprints for the Heller Complex?" Toby instructs and when they oblige, he turns, apologetically, to Miles, saying, "Sorry. Sometimes things are still pretty much like high school around here."

"Hey, I get it," Miles shrugs. "It's Valentine's Day, right? You probably have plans other than work."

"Eh," He shrugs. "Not really. So we keep the wooden dowels behind the-"

"Wait, you don't have plans?" Davis interrupts them. "Well, hell, you can have my _Amour-Amar_ reservation. Does Spencer like French-Spanish food?"

Hayes snorts. "Does anyone?"

Toby smirks. "Nah, that's okay. We're good. We went out last year. It's not really something we make a habit out of."

"You don't?" Davis asks, entirely surprised. "Why not?"

"I mean, we go out _sometimes_. We have plenty of time to ourselves," Toby says and then quickly amends his statement. "Okay, we have three kids so we have _some_ time to ourselves. But… I don't know. When you've been together as long as we have, going all out for holidays isn't really something we make time for, anymore. It's not that important."

Davis looks thoroughly fascinated by this concept. "Wow. I can't even imagine that."

"That's because all your relationships have a 'Use or Sell By' date."

"Ouch. Like, really man, that was low, even for you."

"How long have you and your wife been together?" Miles then asks, the only one out of the loop.

"Decades, at this point," Toby replies. "About twenty years."

Miles's eyes widen. "Shit. That's a long time."

"Yeah. She comes around the office a lot," Davis puts in. "You'll probably meet her sooner rather than later."

"And she's super great," Hayes adds. "Just don't hit on her. Toby fired the last intern for doing that."

Toby frowns as the others laugh and says, "I didn't fire him for _that_."

"Pretty sure you did."

"I fired him because he failed to fix a leaky roof I asked him repeatedly to redesign _and_ he set fire to a customer's car," Toby explains. "But hitting on Spencer certainly didn't help."

They chuckle and Miles says, "Well, not to brag or anything, but I'm pretty good at roof design. And you don't have to worry about me hitting on your wife. I'd never disrespect either of you that way."

Toby grins and claps him on the back. "Welcome to the team, kid."

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch and when he returns home, Toby expects the rest of his family to be there, too. But the house is just as empty and as quiet as it had been when he'd left it hours ago, which confuses and concerns him just a bit, as it's pushing five o'clock. He sends a quick text to Spencer and busies himself with a few household chores to keep his mind off of the nagging feeling that something's wrong. He'd never been paranoid before he had a family, but now, the tiniest absence or pause in the everyday rhythm can send him into a panic and there's always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind; _blink and you'll miss it, it's all a dream, you're still alone and you'll always be_. Thirty minutes later and he still hasn't heard from his wife; he begins to worry. And then, he receives a quick text saying- _Stopped for some important errands. Be home soon!_ It's accompanied, ten minutes later, by the sound of her car in the driveway and the front door carefully opening to allow them entry.

Spencer's got Henry on her hip and a reusable grocery bag in her free hand, from which she's also sipping something from a Starbucks cup. Toby can't help but chuckle that _this_ is her definition of 'important errand'. "Okay, before you say anything about my addiction, I haven't had Starbucks since Thanksgiving-"

"And remember how that worked out for you?" Toby asks. "Bouncing off the walls like the Road Runner on steroids and then crashing, face-first, into a plate of pumpkin pie?"

She purses her lips as the girls enter the house behind her, wiping the snow off their boots, Starbucks cups in each of their hands, too. Spencer finishes, "And that's hot chocolate and a coffee-free Frappucino. Promise."

"My girls?" Toby exclaims. "You've corrupted my girls?"

"Look it," Henry grins from his mother's arms, waving his cake pop for his father to see. "It has heart sprinkles on it."

"He's had nothing but sugar today, Toby, so that's where we're at," Spencer sighs as she shifts Henry from her arms to Toby's. "I'm pretty much the worst mother there is, aren't I?"

"Of course not," Toby disagrees vehemently. "Not even close."

"I had fruit," Henry says. "And cupcakes. And cookies. And a carrot."

" _A_ carrot?"

"I don't like carrots."

Toby chuckles and heads further into the house, towards the kitchen, and carefully sets Henry down. When he returns, it's with three chocolate hearts for the children and a bouquet of roses for his wife. "Well I feel less than adequate, now. You got me three sugar-crazed kids and all I got you was a dozen roses."

A saccharine grin comes over her face as she accepts the flowers and buries her nose in them. "Are you kidding? They're beautiful. I'm the one who should feel less than adequate; I didn't get you anything. I owe you."

"Um, false. Like I said, you got me three living and breathing human beings," Toby says and his wife chuckles. "You owe me nothing the rest of our lives."

"Fair enough," Spencer shrugs and heads for the kitchen, putting the roses in water. "But they're worth all the hard work and pain. I'd do it all over again."

"Ew. Can we get back to what I was saying before?" Grace interrupts, pulling off her hat and mittens. "Dad, do you think I'm old enough to babysit?"

"Babysit who?"

"Lilly and Henry," Grace asks. "Aren't I?"

"I don't know," Toby hesitates. "They're still young. And so are you."

"I'm twelve," She disagrees. "McKenzie's already babysitting _and_ she has a cell phone."

"Well, I am going to play the classic mom card and tell you that I am not McKenzie's mother. I'm _yours_ ," Spencer says. "I'm sorry, I just… I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you home alone with them. It isn't that I don't trust you, honey, I do. I just think-"

"That I'm still a baby?" Grace sighs. "It's fine. I'll start looking for a house in Neverland because I'm never growing up."

"Okay, Dramatic One," Toby shakes his head and ruffles Henry's hair as he eyes the chocolate beside him. "How was your Valentine's Day party, Hen?"

"Really, really fun," Henry says, finishing off his cake pop and immediately saying, "My tummy hurts."

"You've never had this much sugar in your life," Spencer says. "And Lil, tell Daddy how many Valentine's Day cards you got!"

"I got twenty-two!" Lilly beams, showing off her handmade mailbox and pulling out cards and candy. "One from everyone!"

"Wow, Lilly! You must be popular!" Toby says and the little girl flushes crimson. Teasingly, he asks, "No cards from boys, I hope?"

"Oh, she has _plenty_ of those," Spencer grins and Lilly nods.

"There's twelve boys in my class."

"Uh oh!"

"Lilly, tell him what Sam wrote on your card," Spencer urges. "Next to your name."

"Look," Lilly finds just the card and turns it towards her father. "He drew a little heart."

Toby smirks. "I'll have to watch out for this Sam, huh?"

"Who's Sam?" Grace asks, her own personal drama momentarily forgotten.

"I play with him sometimes," Lilly says. "With blocks. We build houses. And on the playground, sometimes he plays with Lucas and Nolan and sometimes he plays with me."

Toby finds himself smiling, grateful his daughter's at least making _some_ friends. From birth, Toby had known that Grace is basically a clone of his wife, but it wasn't until Lilly had started school that he'd realized his youngest daughter resembles himself in more ways than one. He lives life in an eternal fear that she'll grow up just as lonely as he had. Grace brings him back to reality the moment she asks, "Lilly, you think I'd be a good babysitter for you and Henry, don't you?"

Lilly considers this and nods quickly. "Yes I do."

Glancing at her mother, Grace says, "See?"

"That's not fair," Spencer disagrees. "Lilly agrees to everything you say."

Grace shrugs. "Sisters have to stick together."

Toby can tell his wife is weighing the consequences pretty hard and is absolutely sure she'll say no, which is why it shocks him so incredibly much when she says, "Okay. You can watch them."

Grace is just as surprised as her father. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, really?" Toby asks and Spencer nods, her face unchanging. She's got a plan; he just hasn't figured it out yet.

"I'm going to make you guys some dinner," Spencer tells her. "And after you're done eating, you can take them upstairs or you can take them to the basement and entertain them, Grace. You're in charge."

"Awesome," Grace grins. "And where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Spencer says and there it is, the catch, and finally, Toby understands. "It's Valentine's Day and Daddy and I would like to have a nice dinner to ourselves, okay? So I'm going to cook that, too, and you are going to watch your siblings so we can have some alone time."

"So I'm babysitting but you're not even going anywhere?"

"Think of it as a trial period," Spencer says. "If it goes well, I might consider letting you _actually_ babysit sometime in the near future."

Grace considers this for a moment before nodding. "Mom, you have a deal."

The three head into the kitchen to wash up for dinner as Toby says, "Wow, I'm impressed. Are we going to regret this?"

Spencer chuckles. "We'll find out."

Grace and Lilly scarf down their dinner and Henry complains of a stomachache and only eats two bites. It's after, when their meal is cleared away and the three of them are in the basement playing some kind of crazy game they'd invented, that Toby and Spencer get a bit of time to themselves. She's made a Caesar salad, steak and steamed broccoli and is keeping dessert a surprise for later. He wonders if they'll get to it and how much time they'll have together before they're interrupted with a crisis from below. "So this was your plan all along? Make Grace think it was her idea to babysit so we could get some time to ourselves?"

"Well, I couldn't just _ask_ her," Spencer says, sipping her glass of wine. "She'd never go for it. She's too stubborn. So I planted the idea in her head, pretended I was against it so she'd want it more, and then after some fake consideration, I let her have what I ultimately wanted in the first place."

"That's incredible," Toby shakes his head. "I'm literally so impressed with you."

"Don't be," She shrugs. "It's the plot from _Inception_."

"I knew I'd heard it somewhere before," He chuckles and then asks, "Did you make your appointment today?"

"Ironically enough, they cancelled," She shakes her head. "So I'm rushing out of the door, worrying about all of my kids, worrying about missing my appointment, worrying about whether or not I kissed Grace before she left or told Henry I loved him or hugged Lilly long enough… and they didn't even show up. How inconsiderate."

"Regular?"

"No, it was a new patient. A consultation."

He nods and adds, "That's a lot of worrying to do before nine a.m."

She shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a worrier."

"I know you are," He says. "You know, you don't have to worry as much as you used to."

"Are you kidding? I have to worry even _more_. I have three extensions of myself that I send out into this terrible world everyday," Spencer explains. "Four, if you count you."

"Do you count me?"

"I always count you."

He smiles, warm and slow, and Spencer's always saying how he's the romantic one, how he's always saying things that destroy her, how she's never able to convey her feelings quite as eloquently, but he'd have to disagree. He wonders if the Spencer he'd first fallen in love with, the hesitant, poised, careful teenager her parents had crafted to always think with her brain and never her heart, could see this version of herself now and he wonders so desperately what she'd think. She's come a long way and interestingly enough, she still doesn't seem to fully grasp the full effect she has on him. He imagines it'll be a part of their relationship that will always remain constant.

While he's still processing the simple sincerity of her words, she asks, "Hey, you got your new intern today, right? How did it go? Do you think he'll be a good fit?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do," Toby nods. "He seems like a good kid. He's a senior and he says he's hoping to contract with us when he graduates."

"Well that's good," Spencer says. "I'm glad you found someone who's going to work out. Hopefully you won't have to fire this one. I know how much it kills you when you have to do that."

Toby puts in, "The guys at work seem to think I fired the last one because he made a pass at you."

Spencer smirks. "Didn't you?"

"No! You think that too?" He exclaims and she chuckles. "Spencer, he set a car on _fire_. Grounds for termination, wouldn't you say?"

"Of course," She agrees. "And if I were that family, I _certainly_ wouldn't allow you to continue working on my house, but they did. And you did."

"Yeah, I did everything for free and threw in landscaping which was not part of the deal," Toby says but senses there's more. "But…?"

"But…" She trails off. _You tell me_.

He sighs. "But the objectification of my wife did not help his defense."

"There you go."

"Because you've gotten that your whole life and you've always said it doesn't bother you, but I know you, and I know it does," Toby confesses. "And when it came from my employee, I felt like… I felt like it was my fault."

"Your fault? For what?" Spencer asks. "You didn't make him say what he said."

"No," He says. "But I should've known what kind of person he was before I hired him."

"You're making this a bigger deal than it actually is," Spencer says. "It's over and done with."

"Still."

"Still _nothing_."

"No, still something, because it bothers me."

"I know it does. It bothers me that it bothers you."

He frowns and then asks, "How did we get on this topic, again?"

"I made the mistake of asking about your intern," She says. "Remind me never to open that can of worms again."

He laughs and says, "I'm sorry. I feel very strongly about the way people treat you."

She grins. "Because you treat me like a queen?"

"I just don't understand why other people can't do the same."

Her entire body shakes with laughter, her head thrown back, as the entire dining room is filled with the joyous sound. It brings the sappiest grin to his own face; it's been years and years and he still can't get over how much he loves this beautiful girl. "We're coming up on twenty years this year. We should do something big."

"Shit," Spencer says upon realization. "We've been together that long?"

"We've been together longer than we've been apart, at this point."

"We've been together for more than half of my life."

"We should take a trip," Toby suggests. "A big one. We should go back to Europe."

"Or we could go on a cruise," Spencer says and Toby nods. "We could go on a European cruise."

"Just the two of us," He grins and she agrees. "I've never been on a cruise before."

"Well, neither have I. There's a first for everything." Spencer says. "We're running out of them having been together so long. You know, firsts, I mean."

"That's not true. We have plenty left," Toby lists. "The first time one of our kids goes to high school. The first time they come home with a significant other. The first time we teach them to drive. The first time we go to look at colleges and the first time we send them to college."

"Oh my god," Spencer shakes her head. "All of those sound terrible."

"Yeah, they really do. I regret bringing them up."

"And those aren't _our_ firsts," Spencer corrects. "They're theirs."

"Yeah, true," Toby says. "But they're ours, too, because we'll be experiencing them for the first time as parents."

He watches as she considers this before nodding. "Okay, fair enough. Back to our cruise-"

Suddenly, there's a shriek from downstairs and pounding feet on the stairwell. Grace is in the doorway in moments, her face pale. "Mom, Henry just threw up _everywhere_. Like, everywhere."

Lilly's behind her, nodding with wide eyes. "It's _so_ gross."

"He's so little!" Grace continues. "Where did it all come from?"

Spencer sighs, turning back to Toby. "Happy Valentine's Day, babe."

"I knew he had too much sugar," Toby replies. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees and plays rock, grinning when Toby plays scissors. "Ha, ha. Have fun cleaning that up, sucker."

Toby groans and turns to his daughters. "Okay. Take me to the puke."

"Ew, no," Grace shakes her head. "You can't miss it, Dad."

"Lil?"

"I'm not going back down there," Lilly shakes her head. "Sorry, Daddy."

The girls head upstairs to get ready for bed as Toby turns in search of the basement, a bucket of hot water and carpet cleaner in tow. As Spencer begins to clean up from dinner, Henry toddles upstairs in search of her. "Mommy?"

"Hi, honey." She greets him with open arms, scooping him up. "I heard you got sick. Are you alright?"

He nods against her shoulder, playing with her hair. "I feel better now."

"Good," Spencer smiles. "Do you feel like you're going to be sick again?"

Henry shakes his head. "You really like Starbucks, Mommy?"

Confused, Spencer nods and asks, "Yeah, why?"

"Because my belly doesn't like it. I threw up," Henry tells her. "That's _disgusting_."

* * *

"Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

It's part of her nightly bedtime routine and has been from day one. Honestly, Toby's not even sure why she asks anymore; they never tell her no. Bedtime stories and endless hugs and kisses are the easiest way to ensure Lilly drifts off swiftly into dreamland. Toby takes a seat on the bed beside his daughter and asks, "Of course, sunshine. What story do you want to hear?"

"A love story," Lilly decides. "Because it's Valentine's Day."

"A love story?" Toby asks and Lilly nods easily. "Which love story?"

Lilly thinks a moment before saying, "Surprise me."

Chuckling, Toby replies, "Do you want a fairy tale? Cinderella, maybe? Or Beauty and the Beast? The Princess and the Frog?"

" _Dad!_ " He hears Grace shout from down the hall and in moments, she's rushing into Lilly's room.

"What?" Toby asks. "Who threw up now?"

"No one," Grace says and momentarily forgets her trouble. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out what bedtime story to tell Lilly," Toby says. "Any ideas?"

"Jekyll and Hyde," Grace jokes and when Lilly pulls a face, she says, "Kidding, Lil. Tell her the one about the five Chinese brothers. That one always fascinated me."

"She wants a love story."

"Daddy, I have an idea," Lilly says. "Tell me your love story."

" _My_ love story?" Toby asks. "Mine and your mother's, you mean?"

Lilly nods complacently and Grace climbs onto the foot of the bed, sitting cross-legged and saying, "Ooh, I'm staying for this."

"Okay," Toby smirks. "So, I was seventeen and I was at a really difficult place in my life-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lilly shrieks. "You have to start with once upon a time!"

"Yeah Dad," Grace yawns. "All stories start with once upon a time."

"Okay, I'm sorry," He replies. "Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Prince Toby and he lived in a kingdom called Rosewood. This kingdom was dark and mysterious and scary things happened all around the town all the time. But scary things were happening inside Prince Toby's cottage, too. When Prince Toby was younger, his mother passed away and since then, his father remarried and now he had an evil stepmother and wicked stepsister. Something terrible was happening in the house and then there was something even bigger that hurt Prince Toby's wicked stepsister, something he was blamed for, and he was sent away to a dungeon far, far away."

"But he didn't do it," Lilly asks, hanging on his every word. "Right?"

"Right," Toby smiles. "That was actually the work of someone who ruled the kingdom of Rosewood, someone named Queen Alison. Queen Alison was very strict and very mysterious and some days, she could be your best friend and others, she would make you feel like you were all alone in the world. Queen Alison did not like it if you told her off or disagreed with her and if you ever dared to, she would ruin you. That was her plan. She was the talk of the town, but she was mean and she was rude and she did not let _anyone_ tell her no. And when Prince Toby told her no… Well. The best way to shut him up was to send him away from the kingdom of Rosewood for good."

Suddenly, Lilly's bedroom door is pushed open again and Spencer's in the doorway, a yawning Henry on her hip. "Oh, I wondered where all of you had gone. Are we having a family meeting? No one told me."

"No," Grace tells her. "Dad's telling us a bedtime story."

"Ooh, what kind of bedtime story?" Spencer asks, taking Grace's spot on the bed as she scoots closer to Lilly, Henry fading fast in her lap.

"Your love story," Lilly says and leans back against her pillow.

" _Ours_?" Spencer explains in disbelief.

"Yeah," Grace nods. "Shh, he just started."

Toby falters a moment, asking, "Where did I leave off?"

"You were telling us about Queen Alison," Lilly fills him in. "How she sent Prince Toby away."

"Ah, right," Toby nods. "Okay, so Queen Alison. She was the ruler of the kingdom of Rosewood, but every Queen has her followers, right? People who are almost as powerful as the queen herself? Queen Alison had them, too. She had four of them- Princess Aria, Princess Emily, Princess Hanna and Princess Spencer. Each of these princesses had their strengths, certain things they were great at and certain things they brought to the group. But they also had things about themselves that they didn't like and those were the things that kept Queen Alison powerful. Because if any of the princesses told Alison no or yelled at her or didn't do what she told them to do, then she would use these things that they didn't like about themselves against the princesses."

"But they're her friends," Lilly points out. "You're not supposed to be mean to your friends."

"Exactly," Toby nods. "But she was. She was very mean to everyone she spoke to. She was a powerful queen full of terrible secrets and then, something happened."

"What?! What happened?!"

"Turns out, there was someone who was even more powerful and even more evil than Queen Alison," Toby says. "There was an apothecary on the dark side of the kingdom who had grown tired of Queen Alison's games and began to send her letters and messages that were haunting and scary. The apothecary signed these messages with only the letter A so Queen Alison would never know who sent them. It began to frighten Queen Alison but she never told anyone that someone was scaring her. And then, one day, she disappeared."

"She disappeared?" Lilly gasps. "I bet the apothecary took her."

"I bet nobody missed her," Grace puts in. "Because she was the worst."

"With Queen Alison gone, the kingdom of Rosewood began to panic," Toby continues. "They began to lock their doors at night and wonder who could have possibly taken her. This is about the same time that Prince Toby came back to the kingdom after Queen Alison had him sent away, so immediately, the entire kingdom came to believe that it was Prince Toby who had sent Queen Alison those terrible messages and had taken her away. And because of that, everyone in the kingdom began to hate him. Everyone believed he was guilty and everyone wanted him to be sent away to a dungeon for the rest of his life."

"Everyone?" Lilly gasps, glancing worriedly at her mother. "Even…?"

"Yes, Lilly," Toby nods. "Even Queen Alison's princesses. See, once Queen Alison was gone, there weren't any more messages sent to her from the apothecary. But the messages soon started up again, and this time, they were sent to each one of the princesses; scary stuff, secrets, things that no one knew about them. And Princess Hanna and Princess Spencer, especially, were convinced that it was Prince Toby who was sending them."

"Great," Spencer exhales heavily, careful not to wake Henry. "You're going to make me sound terrible, aren't you?"

"You?" Toby feigns confusion. "This story's about Prince Toby and Princess Spencer. I don't know what you're talking about."

Spencer smirks and Lilly giggles and pleads, "Keep going! Keep going!"

"May I interject?" Spencer asks and upon approval from her daughters, she glances at Toby.

"The floor is yours."

"Thank you," She says. "The apothecary was very good at keeping her true identity from the princesses, but she was also very good at making the princesses think they knew who she was. So, when the apothecary sent the princesses a letter telling them that this whole thing was Prince Toby's fault, and she had the notes to prove it, the princesses couldn't help but believe her. Princess Emily was a bit more hesitant to believe the news, because she was very good friends with Prince Toby, and it was something the other princesses, Princess Spencer especially, couldn't understand. Because how…"

She trails off and Toby finishes, "How could Princess Emily be friends with a monster?"

Spencer frowns but finds herself saying, "Yeah."

"But one day-"

"But one day," Spencer regains her strength. "One day, Princess Spencer saw something that changed her mind about Prince Toby forever. See, everyone in the town shared the belief that it was Prince Toby who had done something terrible to Queen Alison and had banished her from the kingdom of Rosewood. And the townspeople were very open about sharing their dislike of Prince Toby right to his face. It was something Princess Spencer had finally seen with her own eyes. People would throw things at him, yell terrible things, or cross the street to avoid coming in contact with him. They would yell that he should go away forever and let the kingdom live in peace. And it was then that Princess Spencer realized she didn't know the whole story- and neither did anyone else."

"She watched Prince Toby turn down the road into an alley," Spencer continues, careful not to look at her husband for fear of the look in his eye. "And he sat next to a dumpster by himself and he stayed there for hours. He was very upset. And it was right there that Princess Spencer realized she actually knew nothing at all. Except for this- Prince Toby was alone and he was innocent, but no one believed him. And he wasn't a monster. He was a human, just like she was."

She finally glances up and the look on Toby's face is unreadable. She knows this is the first time, even twenty years later, he's hearing this, because she's never shared this with him and honestly, hadn't been expecting to. Her girls are wide-eyed and hanging on her every word, so she continues. "From there, it became Princess Spencer's goal to make sure that the kingdom knew Prince Toby had nothing to do with Queen Alison's disappearance. But to do this, she'd have to gain his trust and knowledge of the situation first."

"Which, she did, pretty easily," Toby continues, back in the game. "Princess Spencer came to Prince Toby's cottage one day and though Prince Toby was a little nervous at first, he was mostly excited to talk to someone and even more excited to learn that she was, finally, on his side."

"They hung out a lot after that day," Spencer goes on. "They became friends really easily. It was strange for Princess Spencer because Prince Toby was not at all like what she'd expected. He was kind and gentle and caring and he had the biggest heart of anyone she'd ever met. He kept her sane; he kept her _safe_. And he was there for her, always, in a way no one else had ever been before."

"And Prince Toby thought that Princess Spencer was incredible," Toby adds. "She was a spitfire. She was determined and fought for what she believed in and she was loyal and dedicated. She helped Prince Toby and stood up for him until he learned to stand up for himself. She was focused and driven and intense, but Prince Toby was entranced by her and even when they weren't together, he found himself longing to be with her and missing her company."

"They got along extremely well," Spencer says. "They made each other happy. And, considering what they were both going through, that said a lot."

"Prince Toby knew he was already in pretty deep," Toby says. "But one day, Princess Spencer worried that Prince Toby's new job with Queen Alison's brother, Duke Jason, would get him into trouble, and to persuade him into taking a new job, she bought him a new chariot to get him from one kingdom to another. And that was it; Prince Toby knew there was no turning back. And even though it was still very early in their relationship, Prince Toby gathered Princess Spencer in his arms and told her he loved her."

"Aw!" Lilly squeals, grinning giddily.

"Princess Spencer was elated," Spencer smiles. "She _had_ wanted to be the first one to say it, but she happily took second for the first time in her life."

"And that was that," Toby nods. "The love between Prince Toby and Princess Spencer could not be touched. Nothing and no one could come between them."

"Many tried and many failed," Spencer agrees. "Things weren't always good between them. They had hard times and bad times and times they thought they'd never recover. But they always found their way back to each other, in the end."

"Queen Alison was found safe, eventually," Toby finishes. "And the apothecary was brought to justice and sent to a dungeon far, far away, guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. Prince Toby and Princess Spencer moved out of the kingdom of Rosewood into a castle Prince Toby built with his own two hands and they married not long after."

"They are now the King and Queen of their own kingdom," Spencer concludes. "With two little princesses and a prince they'll raise together with all the love in the world."

"And they lived happily ever after," Toby grins. "The end."

Lilly gives them each a round of applause and begs, "Again! Again!"

"Another time, babe," Spencer shakes her head. "Time for bed, now."

"That story was way more entertaining than the real version," Grace comments and Lilly frowns.

"What's the _real_ version?"

"Nothing," Toby assures her. "That was the real version. I'm really a king and you're really my princess."

Lilly giggles and gives each of her parents a hug and kiss goodnight. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, sunshine."

"Love you, Momma."

"I love you, Lilly."

"You know," Grace says as the four retreat from Lilly's room, shutting the door behind them. "You'll have to tell her truth at _some_ point."

"Not now," Spencer shakes her head, juggling the weight of Henry's sleeping form. "There was a time you preferred this version too, you know."

"Yeah, when I was, like, six," Grace shrugs. "I'm twelve now. I like reality."

Toby tells her, "It used to be your favorite story."

Grace smiles a bit and confesses, "It still kind of is."

When all three children are tucked away and fast asleep, their parents crawl exhaustedly into their own bed and Spencer compliments, "That was quite the story. Ever think of becoming an author?"

Toby smirks. "I don't have the patience for that."

"You have the patience of a saint," Spencer disagrees. "You could do it."

"Okay, I don't have the _discipline_ for that. I'd never get the motivation."

"I could help with that," Spencer tells him and then gasps. "I could be your agent!"

"What do you know about being an agent?"

"Nothing. But I could learn."

"It's fine," Toby says. "Really. I have a job. And that combined with parenting three kids is enough to hold me over. I'd never have time for a book."

She nods. "That's fair."

After a beat, he says, "You never told me you saw me crying in the alley that day."

Spencer bites her lip. "I did."

"That's what changed your mind?"

"Well… Kind of. Not completely," Spencer says. "I'd been thinking about everything we knew about Ali's disappearance and not everything matched up; most notably, your involvement. That was just… Well, it was icing on the cake."

Toby nods and doesn't look at her when he says, "It wasn't… It was a moment of weakness. I was fine, really."

"You weren't, though," Spencer tells him and it's been over twenty years, but her heart still aches at the thought. "You were completely alone. You had no one. And everyone was so awful to you… Especially me."

"I forgave you. Obviously."

"No but…" She sighs. "It's stupid, but I guess I never really thought about how hurtful we were being. And I didn't know the whole story with Jenna and with your Dad and with Alison… And I was only adding salt to the wound."

"How would you know?" Toby asks her. "Really? There was no way for you to know."

"I could've asked," Spencer insists. "I could've talked to you. I could've done _something_."

"You did," Toby tells her. "You walked up my front porch and you tutored me in French and you saved me from a lonely, sad, empty life. You have to know that. You know that, right?"

She considers this and nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Okay," Toby says. "I'm a little embarrassed that you saw me cry in what was clearly not my finest moment, but I think we can move on."

She chuckles a bit and says, "It's funny, actually. It was the first time I ever saw you upset. And I felt _terrible_. I wanted to kill that guy for saying what he said to you."

His eyes widen. "You did?"

"Oh yeah," She nods. "No one treats you like shit and gets away with it. Not on my watch."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," Spencer grins, citing his words from earlier. "I feel very strongly about the way people treat you."

He grins, too. "Because you treat me like a king?"

"And I don't understand why other people can't do the same."

Toby laughs wholeheartedly and says, "I love you so much, Spencer. And every time I think I can't love you more, you say something like that and prove me wrong."

"I love you, too," Spencer beams. "So much. I'm so incredibly lucky to have you not just on Valentine's Day, but everyday."

"Lucky?" Toby asks, eyeing her mischievously. "I'll show you lucky."

Laughter bubbles from within her and their mouths meet instantly, hands everywhere at once. As a kid, she'd never believed in fairy tales, because she'd never been a dreamer. She'd been based in reality from the moment she left the womb and that paired with her crippling anxiety had done a number on her social development and the way she perceived the world. But her children believe in everything; love and hope and unicorns and fairy tales and aliens and ewoks and elves and dementors and everything in between. And she's glad, really she is, because she knows Toby grew up the very same way. Valentine's Day had always been something she'd enjoyed, but she'd never fully grasped nor understood it, not from the beginning, because it hadn't made sense to her that there should be _one_ day where love should prevail, _one_ day where a special love should be celebrated, and she couldn't quite grasp that concept. Was she being greedy? Perhaps. But _one_ day certainly never seemed like enough to her. The love she and Toby share could never, ever hope to be contained into one day's worth of hugs and kisses and cuddles.

Their love is epic and luxuriant and grand. And, as he worships her like the sun, Spencer realizes this is why she's lucky.

Everyday with Toby feels like Valentine's Day.


	3. love is all around you and here to stay

**Hello friends! Good evening. How are we all doing? Hopefully well. Hopefully better than me LOL. No, I'm fine, really. Probably just being dramatic but thank you all for your wonderful reviews regarding the last chapter! I hope your Valentine's Day went well too haha. This one's a bit random but I guess I can stop saying that because they're all super random? Like not cohesive in the slightest but hopefully it still goes over well anyway.**

 **Yeah so hey. I don't have much else to say LOL. I hope you're all trucking through life. If you're in the north and being bombarded with snow and cold, fear not! Winter is almost over. If you're in the south, like me, and being bombarded with wonderful beautiful weather, begin to fear because summer is almost here and it's going to get hot and busy. Okay. I've rambled my stupid thoughts long enough haha. Thank you, I love you all, and enjoy this chapter. Title comes from "Welcome to the World" by Nicolette Larson. Also, once upon a time Troian did this amazing podcast where she talked about all kinds of shit and one those things was where Spencer came from/how she came to be. Her answer was incredible and so I stole it and formulated it for this chapter. For the life of me I can't remember which podcast this is, but this wasn't my original idea so I wanted to make that clear. Kay byesies.  
**

* * *

love is all around you and here to stay

They're going to be parents.

It doesn't scare him at first. In fact, he's so delighted, he spins her in circles, kisses her over and over, and they make love twice. All of their belongings are packed away in preparation for their upcoming move to New York, so they celebrate with a final dinner at the Grille and order champagne for a toast, which Spencer doesn't drink, of course. On the drive back to the loft, they fantasize about what their child will look like, what he or she will like and dislike, and all the different things they'll be able to do together as a family. It's when he's fresh from a shower and brushing his teeth that the fear begins to settle in. Parents; they're going to be _parents_. He's going to be a father and as exciting and fulfilling as that is, it's also completely terrifying.

He has no frame of reference, really. His father is less than stellar and the only thing he's learned from the elder Cavanaugh is the type of father he does _not_ want to be. They're still young; perhaps _too_ young to be doing this. They're in the middle of a move, Spencer's still in school and Toby's had a steady job for all of about five minutes… This is not going to be easy. And parenting in general isn't easy, but he imagines they've only rocked the boat with every little obstacle they now have to overcome. He's trying to remain as positive as he can; it's who he is and who Spencer's always needed him to be. But he's not going to lie and say he isn't mildly frightened. This is certainly a stepping-stone he hadn't yet expected.

When he returns to their bedroom, Spencer's combing through her wet hair with her fingers, her laptop on the bed before her, reading wide-eyed. He sits beside her, asking, "What are you reading about?"

"Pre-term labor," Spencer replies reluctantly. "It's terrifying."

"Then why are you reading about it?" He wonders and she shrugs.

"I need to be prepared," She tells him and clicks on another article, immediately gasping. "Ew! Why did I click on this?"

Toby balks, "Gross! What is that?"

"It's what the placenta looks like," Spencer gags. "Oh my god, celebrities are eating them!"

"That's disgusting," Toby shakes his head and then points out a related article. "What is SIDS?"

"I don't know," Spencer replies and begins to read aloud. "Sudden infant death syndrome, or SIDS, is the sudden unexplained death of a child less than one year of age. SIDS usually occurs during sleep between the hours of midnight and nine a.m. There is usually no evidence of struggle and no noise produced. The exact cause of SIDS is unknown."

Toby's eyes are wide with shock. "Oh my god."

"So we could do literally everything right," Spencer says quietly, her voice full of horror. "And the baby could still just…"

Toby takes the laptop and closes it, placing it aside. "That's enough internet for now."

They sit for a moment in silence before Spencer says, "Are we ready for this?"

"Is anyone ever ready?" Toby wonders. "I mean, we're still young but… That could be a good thing."

Spencer bites her lip, admitting, "I don't know how to be a mom."

"You're going to be a _great_ mom," Toby assures her. "Really. I have no doubt in my mind."

She smiles just a bit. "You put too much faith in me."

"You don't put _enough_ faith in you," Toby counters. "Look, it's scary. It is. You're scared and I get it; I am too."

"I'm not scared," Spencer shakes her head and at her husband's pointed look, she backtracks. "Not _scared_ , just… I don't know, a little nervous, I guess."

He regards her for just a moment before asking, "Can I tell you something?"

She nods eagerly. "You can tell me anything."

"My Mom wanted a big family," Toby begins. "Like four or five kids at the least. But she had a really rough pregnancy and an even more difficult labor that ended in an emergency cesarean. And I guess that was pretty scarring and when you put that together with whom I turned out to be, I remained an only child. I guess my Dad always wanted a son he could throw a ball around with or watch football on Sundays with or someone who was respectable enough to carry on the family business. So when I had zero interest in all of that… I mean, I always would rather read a book or draw… And so I guess my Dad just kind of convinced my Mom that they were good. They didn't need any more kids. He never got behind who I was; he was always disappointed."

Spencer's eyes are full of heartbreak and she takes his hand, saying, "You're perfect just the way you are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, especially him."

"It doesn't bother me," Toby tells her honestly. "My point is, only my Mom wanted a family. My Dad wanted… an heir, or something. He wanted a carbon copy of himself. That's what he thought parenting was. So I've got way less of a chance of being a good parent than you do, Spence. Look at where I came from and look at what I've got to work with. My family is a mess."

"Right, because mine's perfect?" Spencer replies. "Did I ever tell you that I was an accident?"

He exclaims, "You were what?"

"Yeah, that secret came out during Melissa's bachelorette party when my mother had one too many Jager bombs," Spencer says. "And why my mother was invited is a story for another time, but regardless, it made me feel a lot of things about myself and somehow, oddly made a lot of sense."

Toby smirks. "Really? I can't say I was expecting that."

"Why not?" Spencer inquires. "They had one perfect child, but they still pretty much hated each other and they were bickering and bickering back and forth for years. And with the DiLaurentises and with Jason and with all of that happening right next door, there was tension building for years. So they got drunk and had a blow out fight and, as much as it physically pains me to say this, a lot of angry hate sex. It's disgusting. Like, I'm literally the product of a drunken one-night stand. I mean, who knows if I would even be here if they didn't have that massive fight? What does that say about where _I_ came from, Toby? If your family is mess, mine is a _disaster_."

"Wow," Toby shakes his head. "Well, we're off to a rough start."

Spencer chuckles a bit. "Yeah. We really are."

"At least our child wasn't conceived with some ulterior motive," Toby shrugs. "Or… drunkenly."

"I don't know," Spencer considers. "We did have a lot of champagne on our mini honeymoon."

"And a _lot_ of sex," Toby says. "You know, we actually should've seen this coming."

"We should have, I mean, mathematically speaking," She laughs. "I don't know why, but… I'm not nearly as nervous as I was before."

"That's because you and I know we'll be better than our parents," Toby tells her. "There is no possible way we could be any worse."

They kiss lovingly for a moment before Toby asks, "How far along are you? When should we be expecting our little bundle of joy?"

"I don't know," Spencer replies. "I just took a test. I haven't seen a doctor yet. But I did make an appointment for Wednesday, right before we leave. Will you come with me?"

"Of course," He agrees. "And we should probably tell our parents before we go. I don't know when we'll be back in Rosewood again."

"That's true," Spencer considers. "But you're supposed to wait until after the three-month mark, right? For good luck?"

"You're asking me?" Toby wonders. "This is my first kid too."

"I just don't know how any of this works," Spencer says. "But you and I'll figure it out, right?"

"Yeah," Toby assures her. "We've got this."

* * *

This is the longest doctor appointment of her life.

She's already gotten a physical, a blood test and a pap smear. A urine sample came next and then a dozen and one questions about her medical history, her gynecological health details and if she'd had a past of smoking, drinking or drug use (that last one had gotten her and though Dr. Thomas had asked judgment free, she already felt like a terrible mother). Next was a complete and thorough review of the Hastings and Cavanaugh families' medical history, recounting chronic or serious illnesses that could be hereditary and it leaves both of them with their heads spinning. Dr. Thomas asks if anyone in either of their families has ever had a genetic disorder and asks if they would like to schedule any prenatal testing for said disorders during her own gestation. They disagree together. They aren't worried and the odds are in their favor, but even if something should happen, nothing could make them love their child any less.

"All right, I know this has all been really overwhelming, but there's just a few more things we have to cover," Dr. Thomas tells them. "You're very healthy and I know you'll have no problem maintaining that, but it is now more important than ever to eat a healthy diet and keep yourself in check. On average and based on your BMI, you should gain about twenty-five to thirty-five pounds throughout the pregnancy, where it'll be about one to five pounds for the first trimester and then about a pound a week from there on out."

Spencer's eyes widen. "A pound a week?"

"I know that sounds like a lot," Dr. Thomas grins. "But about 90% of that weight is going straight to the baby."

"And where's the rest going?" Spencer wonders and then shakes her head. "Never mind, I think I can guess."

Her husband and doctor chuckle. "Here are a few pamphlets for you on choosing the right prenatal vitamins, foods you should avoid, eating well and some common discomforts of early pregnancy. Now you are due late January, which would make you about eight or so weeks along, so have you been experiencing any symptoms lately?"

"A couple headaches here and there," Spencer shrugs. "A little nausea, but I haven't vomited yet. Hoping to avoid morning sickness, you know?"

"It's probably wishful thinking," Toby puts in and Dr. Thomas smiles.

"It probably is," She replies. "But that's good. I do want to make you aware of a few symptoms you should never ignore, however. Now these are going to be things like severe abdominal pain, bleeding or spotting, pelvic pressure or cramping, painful urination, severe vomiting, chills or a fever of 100 degrees or higher, any swelling, difficulty breathing, dizziness or exposure to communicable diseases."

Spencer shakes her head. "I might need you to write those down."

"Luckily for you, I already did," Dr. Thomas says, handing her a sheet of paper. "Basically, your early pregnancy symptoms are completely normal, but if they worsen or persist into the second trimester, I want to know about it immediately."

"Okay. Will do."

"Great," Dr. Thomas replies. "And now the fun part."

She begins to type away into the computer beside her and directs Spencer to lie back against the headrest. "Would you like to see your baby?"

"We can…" Toby stammers. "We can see the baby?"

"Of course," Dr. Thomas says. "At eight weeks, the baby is about the size of a raspberry, so he or she'll be small, but still there. You won't see any discernible features just yet, but you will be able to see the heartbeat. And hear it, too, if we're lucky."

Spencer's speechless and wide-eyed as Dr. Thomas focuses the screen, squirts a bit of gel onto her stomach and rubs the transducer around just a little. She grins and points towards a tiny dark sac right in the middle and says, "There's your baby. This right here is going to be the spinal cord and that tiny little circle is his or her head. And see that little blinking circle right there? That's the heart."

"Oh my god," Spencer finally emits, her eyes glued to the screen. "That's our baby."

"That's our baby," Toby echoes, his expression mirroring hers.

"It is," Dr. Thomas chuckles. "Tiny little bugger, but very strong heartbeat. Very healthy. Let me see if I can get it…"

She clicks a couple buttons and flips a switch and then, the entire room is surrounded in the sound of their tiny child's heartbeat. The satisfying _whoosh-whoosh_ sound brings tears to her eyes. This is real; there is a real, living human inside of her. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

"That's our baby," Toby says again and then turns to her, professing, "I love you so much, Spence."

"I love you too," She grins and pulls his mouth to hers.

On the other side, Dr. Thomas says, "I'll make some print outs for you. It'll be a good thing to show your families."

The printer whirs beside them and Spencer remembers she can't exactly keep this to herself. Sure, the girls had been the first to know and Toby had been so, _so_ excited when she'd told him… But she's twenty-four and still en route to her doctoral degree. They have a tiny apartment secured in New York and barely enough money to sustain themselves. It isn't likely her parents are going to react as positively as her friends and husband had. But, strangely, she isn't as terrified as she once was. Seeing that tiny little fluttering heartbeat, the teeny human she and Toby had created, had brought out a fierce protectiveness within her and if her family can't accept that, than she'll go find someone who will.

They have plans to meet her parents for lunch and, they find out when they arrive, Melissa has weaseled her way into the meeting as well. She's somehow worked it out so that she gets full-time pay for her part-time hours and that way she can still be a working girl with income and Wren's devoted little housewife all in one. It makes zero sense to Spencer, but nothing Melissa's done ever has. Vivian is away with the nanny and Wren is in surgery, which is somewhat of a relief. They're halfway through lunch when Spencer feels like this is a pretty good time to bring up their big news. That, or she can't listen to her father and sister share their views on the politics of Rosewood. It's legitimately putting her to sleep.

She clears her throat and says, "Toby and I actually had a bit of an ulterior motive in wanting to meet you guys for lunch today."

"I thought it was because you're leaving town?" Peter wonders. "You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Friday, actually, Dad, and yeah, it is because of that, but also there's something else," Spencer says. "We have an announcement we want to make."

"An announcement?" Veronica questions and then gasps. "You're graduating early."

"No," Spencer shakes her head and this doesn't cease her mother's probing.

"You're deferring?" Veronica asks. "Spencer, Columbia is very expensive, and-"

"Mom, I know, okay? I've been there before. I'm not deferring," Spencer rolls her eyes. "And this isn't about me. I said _we_ have an announcement, remember?"

Melissa gasps and says, "Oh my god, you're pregnant."

Their parents' eyes snap to the couple, namely their younger daughter. "Are you?"

"Uh… Yeah," Spencer nods and she has no idea why she feels like a child being scolded. Isn't this supposed to be a happy announcement? "Yeah, I am. Toby and I are going to be parents. In January."

She glances to her side and notes the paralyzing terror on Toby's face. She can't blame him. Her parents are making this as though they're still teenagers, caught in the act. Veronica's blinking rapidly, as though she can't process the news. "Spencer, I… This is wonderful. Really, it is, I'm just… It's such a surprise."

"I'm not going to pretend it wasn't a surprise for us, too," Toby says in an attempt to bring levity to the situation. Spencer smiles and her mother chuckles just a bit.

"I knew it," Melissa grins. "I could just tell. I don't know if it's because I'm your sister or because I've been pregnant before, but I just _sensed_ it. Oh, I'm going to be an aunt! Viv's going to have a little cousin!"

"But Spencer, you're… You're still in school," Peter says stubbornly. "Have you thought about how difficult this is going to be?"

"Yes, Dad, it's all I've been thinking about," Spencer frowns. "But I'm not sixteen anymore. I think I can handle it."

"Peter, please," Veronica chastises. "Did you not hear what she said? We're getting another grandchild!"

"And I'm thrilled, make no mistake about that," Peter says and Melissa interjects.

"Have you had any morning sickness yet?"

"Not really," Spencer shakes her head. "A little nausea, but-"

"Look, if you do get it, sucking on lemon drops really helps," Melissa advises. "And tea with honey and some cold compresses always helped me with the headaches."

"Thanks," Spencer nods. "That's actually really helpful."

"What about the cord blood? Have you thought about whether or not you're going to bank it?" Melissa then wonders and Spencer shrugs.

"I don't know," She replies. "I don't really know anything about it."

"Oh, it's a quick and painless procedure. Takes five minutes," Melissa replies. "Plus it'll be good to have the blood on file just in case, God forbid, anything should happen down the road. We did it with Viv, and I'd do it again."

"I guess we'll have to think about that, then," Spencer nods.

"Is your apartment even big enough for three?" Peter then asks. "Because when you showed me pictures, Spence, it barely looked big enough for two."

"Dad," Spencer rolls her eyes. "It'll be fine. Babies are small, right?"

"But they come with a lot of baggage," Peter says and Veronica nods.

"That they do," She agrees. "And we are going to spoil that kid _endlessly_."

"Toby," Melissa then says. "Are you ready to run to McDonalds at two a.m. for French fries? That's what you're in for."

Toby laughs. "Whatever I have to do, I will do it happily. Honestly, whatever Spencer wants… I'll find a way to get it for her."

Spencer grins at him and Melissa nods her approval. "Good answer. Definitely watch _your_ waistline, though. Sympathy weight gain is a real thing; Wren gained, like, fifteen pounds. He was so scandalized. I mean, it's gone _now_ , but-"

"What about childcare?" Peter then asks. "I mean, you're going to be working and in school. The baby's going to have to go somewhere. But of course, that's an added expense, too."

"We'll help them, Peter," Veronica answers and Peter shakes his head.

"We don't live in the city."

"Okay, so now we'll have an excuse to visit," Melissa adds. "As if Barneys and Bendels weren't enough, right?"

As the three continue their monologues, Toby turns to Spencer and says, "I'm lost."

"You and me both," Spencer agrees. "But at least it went kind of well, right?"

Toby then frowns despite the situation. "Can't say telling my family will be the same."

And the very next day, that's exactly what they do. Hand in hand, they ascend the porch steps to Toby's childhood home and ring the bell. Toby seems calm and cool and collected, but the hand firmly grasped in her own is shaking. It shouldn't have to be like this. Daniel Cavanaugh has never been warm and inviting, and Spencer still can't figure out what his issue is with her, but this is his only child bringing him some of the greatest news he could ever hope to receive. She doesn't say this often, but she actually hopes he'll prove Toby wrong and react as positively as he can. Spencer can count on one hand the amount of times she's had a conversation with this man; when they went for a very, very brief dinner to announce their engagement, when he'd offered her a tight-lipped congratulations at their wedding… and end of list. She isn't Hanna; she doesn't need _everyone_ to like her. But this man is her family too, technically, and a clean slate might be nice.

Toby sighs heavily when a few minutes go by with no answer and rings the bell again, accompanying this with a few heavy knocks. Spencer asks, "Do you not want me here? Would you rather do this alone?"

"No," Toby shakes his head. "No, I want you here. I need you here. If he reacts the way I'm expecting, I'll need you to make sure I don't strangle him to death."

Spencer smirks. "You don't have a violent bone in your body."

He shrugs. "Still."

She watches the irritation and a slight tremor of fear pass over his face and asks, lightly, "Do you really think they won't be happy for us?"

"I don't know," Toby says quietly and knocks on the door a second time. "I hope they will, but…"

"But," Spencer fills in. "A baby means you're stuck with me for life and your Dad doesn't want that."

"Spence," His eyes meet hers finally, sympathetically. "It's not like that. It isn't you."

"It's not?" She questions. "Because he seemed to make it pretty clear in the past that he's not my biggest fan."

Before he can offer a reply, the front door opens, but it isn't Daniel on the threshold. It's Heather, Toby's stepmother, and she seems genuinely surprised that they're there. "Oh. Toby, Spencer, hi. What are you doing here?"

"Well, we live here," Toby replies smartly and Spencer squeezes his hand in warning. If he doesn't start with claws out, maybe they won't, either.

Heather purses her lips and says, "I thought your father said you'd moved to New York."

"We're leaving tomorrow," Toby corrects her. "And we wanted to talk to him before we left."

"He's not here." Heather informs them. "Was he expecting you?"

"Yes," Toby sighs. "I talked to him two days ago to confirm it. He said to come by on Thursday, because-"

"He never mentioned it to me," Heather replies and then steps aside. "Well come in, I guess, and wait for him."

She shuts the front door behind them and then disappears into the depths of the house. Spencer's only been inside Toby's childhood home once and she's only ever been in Jenna's room. But as Toby leads her to the living room, she realizes every room in this house is basically like a shrine to Toby's stepsister. There are pictures of her all over the walls, the mantel on the fireplace, and awards she's won in frames alongside the window. There are a few photographs of Daniel and Heather and a couple of anniversary cards along the desk in the corner. There is no record of Toby ever having lived here at all; no pictures, no belongings, nothing. Her heart clenches in her chest, but Toby seems remarkably unfazed, and she wonders if this is what the house looked like when he'd lived here, too. Always an outsider, even on the inside.

Twenty-five minutes go by and there's no sign of Daniel Cavanaugh. Heather goes about her housework and makes lunch and returns a few phone calls as if the couple is not even there. With every passing minute, Toby grows more and more agitated and Spencer can feel the tension radiating off of him. She places a soothing hand on his arm and says, "It's okay. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Yeah, and I'm sure he _conveniently_ forgot we were coming," He frowns. "Let's just go. We'll send them an email after the baby's born and they can figure it out from there."

"Do you really want your parents to find out they're grandparents through email?" Spencer implores. "Toby, it's okay. I don't mind waiting."

"You know what? I don't even know if I want them to _be_ active grandparents," Toby then says. "Your parents are fine. I've seen them with Vivian and they're actually better at this than I would've expected. No offense."

She smirks. "None taken."

"But mine?" He probes. "God, they can't do _anything_ right. And I don't want the baby anywhere _near_ Jenna, who they're obsessed with. I just… I don't know."

Spencer senses there's more. "You just what?"

He doesn't look at her when he admits. "I just wish my Mom was here."

Her heart breaks and at first, she doesn't know what to say. Then, an idea hits her. "Do you want to go tell her?"

He glances at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"When we leave," Spencer clarifies. "Do you want to go to the mausoleum and visit her? Tell her she's going to be a grandmother?"

For a moment, he's quiet. Then he smiles and nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that. Thank you."

The garage door opens, then, and they can hear a car door slam and footsteps in the mudroom. Daniel's in great spirits when he comes in but Heather greets him with the news. "Your son's here."

And though they're two rooms away, they make no effort to muffle their voices and Spencer and Toby can hear every word. "What's Toby doing here?"

"I don't know, Daniel," Heather sighs. "He says you told him to come by on Thursday so you could talk."

"Oh, right, that's right," Daniel says and then asks, gruffly, "Is she here?"

Heather affirms, "Yes, they're both here."

She's not going to pretend it doesn't sting, but she keeps her face neutral. Toby does not. Angrily, he stands and beckons for her to follow. "Let's go. We're leaving. I'm not dealing with this."

"No, Toby, it's fine," Spencer pleads. "I'm fine. He's here now, so let's just get it over with and then we can move on."

"Did you hear what you just said? Get it over with? So we can move on?" Toby fumes. "That should not be how we go into this."

"I know," Spencer agrees, standing too. "Believe me, I know that more than anyone."

"I'm sick of it," Toby replies. "We're not telling them. They don't deserve to know about the baby if they can't even accept the baby's _mother_."

"Excuse me?"

Their heads snap in the direction of the doorway, where both Daniel and Heather are standing there, wide-eyed in surprise. Toby says nothing and Spencer's drowning in the uncomfortable silence, so she utters, "Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh… We came here to tell you that we're expecting a baby. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

Heather's paralyzed with shock, but Daniel says, "A baby?"

He says this as though they've just told him he's contracted the avian flu or herpes. Disgusted, Toby says, "Yeah, I'm going to be a Dad. And I'm going to be _nothing_ like you."

He turns without another word and storms out of the house and Spencer's caught in a whirlwind of emotion. The Cavanaughs are still staring at her, incredulous, and she can't _stand_ when anyone treats Toby without the utmost respect that he deserves. She also can't hold her tongue; it's never been her strong suit. "I'm really disappointed. I thought you'd be happy. I mean, who doesn't get excited about a baby, right?"

She turns to go and on second thought, adds, "Your son is the greatest man I know. He's thoughtful and kind and caring… If our baby is anything like him, I'd never take advantage of that."

The front door swings shut behind her and she suddenly feels like crying. Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones or maybe it's the fact that her husband goes underappreciated by almost everyone who meets him. He's sitting inside the truck, taking deep, calming breaths when she enters and he immediately apologizes. "I'm so sorry, Spence."

"Why would you be sorry?" She implores. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I let it happen," Toby laments. "I let them treat you that way. I shouldn't have… I should've done something."

"You can't change their minds," Spencer shakes her head. "No one can."

"I will _not_ let them treat our baby that way," Toby replies, adamant. "If that means they have nothing to do with him or her, then so be it."

Spencer offers, "Maybe they'll come around."

Despite the situation, Toby smiles. "Is that hope I hear in your voice?"

"Look, I'm no fan of the H word," Spencer grins. "But you are. And I'm a fan of you. So I thought I'd try it on for size."

He chuckles. "Looks good on you."

She sobers a bit and asks, "Are you ready to go see your Mom?"

"Yes," Toby nods. "And then let's get out of here. I'm getting really sick of Rosewood."

As always, she wholeheartedly agrees.

* * *

It's the first night in their new apartment and sirens sound outside and the entire place smells like their botched taco night. Toby's never seen someone puke so much in all his life. He disposed of the ground beef and made a meatless taco salad with what was leftover for himself, but Spencer kept her promise and ate nothing but saltine crackers. Morning sickness, they'd just learned, is not reserved solely for the morning. Opening all the windows in the apartment seemed to have worked in getting the smell of cooking meat out of their tiny abode and now, it's pushing ten o'clock and Spencer seems to be okay. She jumps into the shower as Toby climbs into bed, awaiting her. He flips open his laptop and begins to mindlessly pore over the internet before getting sucked into the land of online shopping. Target is advertising a free $25 gift card with every purchase of $150 or more on baby items and he snickers. Who spends that much on baby stuff?

Apparently everyone.

He's still balking at the prices when Spencer emerges moments later, towel drying her hair. "I brushed my teeth like four times, but I understand if you still don't want to kiss me. I could honestly do without the puking."

"You could puke a marathon and I'd still want to kiss you," He says, not looking up from the computer and then pauses, adding, "That might be the weirdest thing I've ever said."

She laughs and climbs into bed beside him. "What are you looking at?"

"Target," He says simply. "Turns out, baby stuff is _expensive_."

"Yeah, no shit," Spencer teases. "Look at all those strollers! How do you even know which one to choose?"

"Definitely not this one," Toby points out. "It's five _hundred_ dollars!"

"That's a quadruple stroller," Spencer says, looking closer, and then clutches her stomach, asking, "How many do you think you put in here?"

He laughs. "Okay, fine. But this one's for only one baby and it's four hundred dollars. Not that much better."

"I guess we've got to do some research," Spencer replies. "But we can probably save _some_ money, right? I mean, I married a carpenter. You can make a crib and a changing table, can't you?"

"Oh sure," Toby agrees. "I mean, I'm not going pay for things I can make myself."

"And I trust you more than I trust Sorelle or StorkCraft Portofino," Spencer says and then points to a thumbnail of a beautiful sleigh crib. "Can you make it like that? It's beautiful."

"Yeah," He says. "What I can't build, though, is a car seat and those things are like two hundred and fifty dollars. I don't understand."

"Yeah, and how do you even know which one to get?" Spencer asks. "The B-Safe, the KeyFit, the SnugRide… There's so many to choose from."

"Like you said, I guess we'll have to do a lot of research," Toby says. "No time like the present."

"Whichever one we choose," Spencer proposes. "I just want to make sure it's safe."

"I'll keep our little raspberry safe," Toby vows and Spencer chuckles. "I promise."

"I know you will," Spencer acknowledges. "You've always done a great job with me. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be great at this new job, too."

"I love you so much," He says. "I love you, and I can't wait to take on this new adventure with you."

"I love you too. With all my heart," She replies. "And we're ready. I really think we can do this. God, why does it have to be so far away?"

"Patience, Spence," Toby chuckles. "Nine months will go by faster than you think."


	4. this magic spell you cast

**Hi friends! I know this is strange, hearing from me literally two days later but I just wanted to address all of you wonderful people who read and reviewed the last chapter. I am going through quite a time in my personal life right now (nothing serious, don't worry!) but the rapid outpour of love in your reviews that you gave me was just... indescribable. I love all of you. I wish I could reply to all of you. But just know that I'm there and I'm reading them all and I'm really, really appreciating everything you're giving me. Seriously. I couldn't love you more. :P**

 **To answer a few questions- yes, you're going to see more from Toby's family down the road and how they tie into this family dynamic. Can't say it happens in this chapter, but it will. Yes, you're also going to see more of pregnant!Spencer because I love writing pregnancies and birth and all that jazz and you asked for it, anyway haha. I want to give you what you want because you're so good at giving me what I want (feedback, I mean, not reviews; it's all about quality, not quantity, see). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The title comes from "La Vie en Rose," which I'm sure everyone knows, right? It's in, like, every rom-com. Okay, not all of them, but most of them. So yeah, cool. Love you guys! See you next time!**

* * *

this magic spell you cast

"This place really is beautiful," Hanna compliments, taking a sip from her glass. "You did not oversell."

"How many times have I told you that you guys need to move upstate?" Spencer asks. "The schools are great, no one knows who we are and all the neighborhoods look like this."

"Getting out of Rosewood would be another bonus," Hanna adds and Spencer nods in agreement. "And no one knows who you are? I beg to differ. The hostess seemed to know that this was your regular table."

"Okay, so we're _regulars_ ," Spencer shrugs. "Lilly could live off of this mac and cheese if I let her and Grace claims the PB&J is, in her words, 'practically perfect'."

Hanna smirks. "Practically perfect?"

" _Mary Poppins_ is the newest obsession," Spencer says. "It's playing constantly. But yeah, sue me. This is the café I bribe my girls with when I want good behavior. We all have one."

"Yeah, see, I just tell Kenz I'll take her to Lucky Leon's. They still remember me there," Hanna chuckles and then turns to the end of the table, where the seven-year-olds are eating happily. "So Grace, what makes this PB&J better than all the others?"

"Because they use crunchy peanut butter," Grace says. "I used to not like it but it makes the sandwich taste better. Who knew?"

"Yup," Spencer says. "And I'm not even allowed to send PB&J with her to school anymore."

Grace shrugs. "You don't do it right."

Spencer shakes her head while McKenzie nods hers. "I know what you mean. My Mom can't make _anything_."

"Excuse you," Hanna shakes her head. "Are you starving, Kenz?"

Her mini-me giggles and says, "No."

"I didn't think so," Hanna defends herself. "We do okay. It's not like I'm gourmet or anything but-"

"But one time," McKenzie says hurriedly, chancing a bold glance at her mother. "She used a towel to get our pizza out of the oven 'cause the pan was hot and she lit it on fire."

Spencer's eyes widen. "Hanna!"

"I couldn't find the oven mitts!"

"Like a real fire?" Grace asks in awe. "Did the firefighters come?"

"No," McKenzie laughs again. "But Mom put everything in the sink and we stood on the counter and waved different towels over the alarms to push the smoke away."

"Oh my god," Spencer smirks and Hanna sighs.

"Not my finest moment, but we've all been there," Hanna says. "Come on, you've never burned anything?"

"Not enough to cause a legitimate fire," Spencer says. "What did Caleb say?"

"Daddy never found out," McKenzie says. "Mom ordered a pizza and then put it on the pan and pretended she made it!"

She and Grace burst into giggles and Hanna laughs too, asking, "Are you going to give away all my secrets, Kenz? Jeez!"

Lilly squeals and giggles from the end of the table, where she's spooning mac and cheese into her mouth and Hanna grins at the baby. "Do you believe these girls, Lil? You're the only one on my side."

She shoots Hanna an adorably cheesy grin, her face covered in sauce. The aforementioned blonde snaps a picture of the little one on her phone before tapping away at the keys. As Spencer begins cleaning Lilly's hands and face, she asks, "What is up with you today? You've been like the paparazzi since we got here."

"How is it that both of your kids look exactly like you?" Hanna asks instead, still tapping away at the screen on her phone. "Seriously, did Toby have anything to do with it or did you clone yourself?"

"I don't think they both look like me," Spencer disagrees. "Everyone says Grace is my mini-me but I've been seeing Toby in her lately more than I ever have. And I think Lilly is a really great mix of both of us, so-"

"She's blonde, Valencia makes her look like she's glowing," Hanna grins. "Oddly, it accentuates the cheese moustache too."

"What's Valencia?" Spencer wonders. "What are you doing?"

"Making your kids Insta-famous," Hanna grins. "There. See?"

She turns the phone towards her friend and staring back at her is Lilly's precious little cheese-face, bathed in an ethereal glow, on Hanna's Instagram. Beneath her daughter's face is a caption reading, _Cheesin' real hard. #macncheeselove #girlsdayout #suburbia_. Spencer stares a moment before asking, "And this is…?"

"Instagram, Spence. I just told you that," Hanna rolls her eyes, scrolls down a bit and then shows her a different picture. "I took this one a little while ago."

It's a photo of Grace and McKenzie sipping identical pink lemonades and grinning ear to ear. Hanna's captioned it, _Best friends make life even sweeter. #graceandkenz #thosefaces #girlsdayout #suburbia_. Spencer wonders, "But isn't that like… something teenagers are into?"

"Are you kidding?" Hanna exclaims. " _Everyone_ has one."

"Everyone?" Spencer implores in disbelief. "Come on, not everyone."

"Everyone," Hanna insists and then taps her list of followers. "Aria."

Spencer gets just a moment to gloss over artsy shots of landscapes, books and Aria's two children before Hanna continues to scroll. "Okay, but that makes sense. I mean, she's a photographer, she's got her studio-"

"Caleb," Hanna then says and Spencer purses her lips.

"What does he even take pictures of?" Spencer wonders, taking the phone from her friend and thumbing through his photos. "Okay, a few couple shots, a lot of McKenzie, some from your trip to New York… Alright I get it."

"He doesn't use it as often as I do, but this is how I keep in touch with my client base," Hanna insists and snatches her phone to continue through her list. "Emily."

Emily has family shots, camping photos and lots of artwork and sports photos from the twins. Spencer concedes. "Okay, you've made your point."

"Paige," Hanna continues on. "My Mom, but mostly so that she can seem young. It's mostly just selfies."

Spencer chuckles. "That I would pay to see."

"Kate, who follows me like a little bitch and who I only follow to see how she's messing up her life," Hanna says. "She married some loser and then gained like thirty pounds and he dumped her for it. Serves her right."

"Want to watch your language?" Spencer warns her, eyeing the three young ones at the table who, luckily for them, weren't paying their mothers any mind. "And I'm _so_ glad you took the high road, Han."

Hanna shrugs. "Alison."

"Alison?" Spencer sputters. "You follow Alison?"

"Well she followed me first," Hanna explains. "I honestly don't even know how she found me, but she likes _everything_ I post and when I followed her back, it was a good way to kind of keep tabs on her. She's in Prague right now doing God knows what with God knows whom. Her Insta is literally filled with pictures of sunsets, wine glasses and foreign men."

Shaking her head, Spencer says, "That sounds about right."

"Ooh, this is a good one," Hanna chuckles. "Ezra."

" _Ezra?_ As in, Fitz?"

"Do you know another Ezra?"

"God, I haven't heard that name in years," Spencer comments. "You follow Ezra?"

"Heck yes, his Instagram is _hilarious_ ," Hanna says. "Again, he followed me first and at first, I was a little freaked out by it, not going to lie. But I was too tempted- I followed him and I am so glad I did. It's all screenshots of the manuscripts he's typing on a legit typewriter- you can't make this stuff up- and pictures of little poems about love and loss. Dude has _lost_ it. If he ever actually had it."

"Wow," Spencer replies. "You weren't kidding when you said everyone."

"Yeah, everyone but _you_ ," Hanna shakes her head. "You should get one. It's addicting."

"I'm not big on social media," Spencer says. "See, I don't know if you know this, but I was kind of tortured as a teenager through all forms of media and ever since then, it hasn't really done anything for me."

Hanna shoots her a look. "That's _exactly_ why you should get one. It's liberating. It's putting yourself back out there. It's looking the Internet in the eye and saying, 'I'm not afraid anymore.' And it's a lot of fun."

"Yeah, well…" She sighs and then says, "Yours is blowing up. What is that?"

"Notifications, kind of like Facebook," Hanna tells her and then dispels the rumors as quickly as she can type. "All my followers are freaking out over Lilly, asking me if I had another baby. Dude, she's obviously like a year old. I didn't pop a kid out a year ago and not tell you till now!"

"She's sixteen months, actually," Spencer corrects her and again, Hanna shoots her look.

"Don't be that person."

Spencer purses her lips and then asks, "So you just post pictures of your daily life and people are into that? No one thinks it's boring?"

"Well, considering I have 756 followers, I'd say no," Hanna smirks. "That picture of Lilly? I posted it seven minutes ago. It already has fifty-two likes."

"What?" Spencer exclaims. "That's insane! That's my baby."

"Yeah. And she's adorable," Hanna says. "And fifty-two of my followers- sorry, fifty-eight, now- think so too."

"This is so weird," Spencer shakes her head. "I mean, what do you even use it for?"

"Kind of like a photo diary," Hanna shrugs. "But also, I mean, I own a boutique. People like to know when the sales are happening or when we start carrying new designers and it was huge during fashion week. Plus, have I told you we started carrying a kids line?"

"You may have mentioned that a thousand times, or so."

Hanna taps the screen once or twice and a couple dozen photos of McKenzie wearing many different fashions pops up. "She's my little model. Kid's a natural. Honestly, she could do this professionally."

"She's seven," Spencer chuckles. "But she does look great. And some of these outfits are really, really cute."

"Well, she's certainly benefitting," Hanna chuckles. "The provider follows me too and as a thank you for not only carrying his line but also showing it off with arguably the cutest child model on the planet, he sends McKenzie free stuff like all the time. Look at what she's wearing now. I didn't pay a _penny_ for that outfit."

"Well that is a sweet deal," Spencer states. "All because of Instagram?"

"All because of Instagram," Hanna nods. "College students use it for artsy photos of salt shakers, but I'm actually just using it for my business. And, obviously, to capture the moment. You should give it a try. It's really enjoyable, actually."

The waitress brings their checks as Spencer considers it and ultimately replies with uncertainty, still. "I don't know. I have a seven-year-old and a toddler and a job. I don't really have time."

"Here," Hanna says, handing her friend a credit card and subsequently snatching Spencer's phone. "I'll just make you one."

"Great," Spencer replies dryly. "That's exactly what I didn't ask for."

"You'll thank me later," Hanna says, thumbing away at the screen. "By the way, your lock screen photo and your background are super cute and making me feel all of the feelings."

"Thanks," Spencer chuckles and hands their paid bills to the waitress waiting. "The background is so old; it was literally taken in Paris a year and a half ago, BL."

"BL?"

"Before Lilly."

"One of the moms at the first and only PTA meeting I went to made fun of me for mine," Hanna says as she waits for the app to download. "It's literally just the three of us in California at Caleb's Mom's house. Like, that's it. She's all, 'Oh… _That's_ your background?' like it shouldn't be, or something. Like yes, woman, the two loves of my life? I'm sorry you're going through a divorce and _not_ getting the kids. No wait, I'm not sorry, you sound like a horrible monster. Free those kids! Back off."

"And I'll say it again," Spencer says. "You and Caleb and Kenzie need to get the _heck_ out of Rosewood."

"I'll say," Hanna agrees. "It's not like we're not looking. It's just really hard right now."

"I know, but Kenzie's getting older," Spencer replies. "And sooner or later, someone out there is going to be like, 'Hey, McKenzie? You want to know what your Mom and Dad did when they were teenagers?' And that isn't going to be a fun time for any of you."

"I know," Hanna nods. "We've already talked a little bit about it but I mean, she doesn't know _too_ much."

A moment later, as Spencer is signing the receipt, Hanna thrusts the phone back in her grasp and says, "There. Done. And I already followed you. You're welcome. You're going to love it."

"I'm not sure I'm going to use it," Spencer says and Hanna rolls her eyes.

"Well, at least you have one, should you change your mind," She says, pushing back her chair and motioning to her daughter. "Back to your place now?"

"Dessert first?" Grace pleads and McKenzie nods beside her.

"Sure," Spencer agrees. "How about we stop by the store and get some ingredients for cupcakes?"

"Yay!" Grace cheers.

McKenzie pleads, "Funfetti ones?"

"Whatever you girls want," Hanna agrees. "I'm not touching the oven this time. Don't need to burn down all Toby's hard work."

Spencer chuckles. "Let's go, then."

She lifts Lilly into her arms just as Hanna says, "Baking cupcakes with two seven-year-olds and a toddler? I think you've found your first Instagram photo."

Spencer shrugs. "Who would even be interested by that?"

Hanna smirks. "You'd be surprised."

* * *

And she is. She posts only two photos- one of Grace leaning over the mixer, McKenzie cracking an egg, and one of Lilly, sprinkles stuck to her nose and cheeks, licking icing off of their finished product- and gains sixty-four followers. It's absolutely baffling; cupcakes and children appeal to the masses, apparently. Lilly naps and the older girls play as Spencer and Hanna attempt to decide what to make for dinner. With both their husbands absent- Caleb's back home in Rosewood and Toby's away for a week on a job in Williamsport- they decide on spaghetti and some steamed mixed vegetables to keep things quick and easy. It isn't until dinner is over and she's loading the dishwasher that Spencer checks her notifications and balks in surprise. Emily's commented on the photo of Lilly from hours earlier, with a few hearts and a message saying, _Welcome to Instagram, Spence! She's precious as usual!_ On the photo of Grace and McKenzie, Aria's written, _Wish we were there too! Miss you guys! Glad you finally joined the 21_ _st_ _century!_ Accompanying these messages is various other comments and likes from people she knows and people she doesn't. It's absolutely baffling.

Later, when the girls are fast asleep and she and Hanna are trading shameless gossip over identical glasses of wine, Spencer's follower count reaches and passes one hundred. But one in particular catches her eye. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I knew this thing was dangerous."

"What? Give me that," Hanna motions for the phone and then her eyes widen. "Is that Jenna? She cut _all_ her hair off?!"

"Not all of it," Spencer shakes her head. "But enough that I didn't recognize her at first."

"Isn't she still blind?" Hanna asks. "What's the point of an Instagram if you can't even see?"

"Hanna," Spencer chastises. "That procedure they did for her junior year failed in the one eye, but apparently was successful in the other. She's got use of one and I guess that's better than nothing."

"And you know that how?" Hanna wonders. "Oh god, are you guys in touch?"

" _Hell_ no," Spencer shakes her head. "She was purposefully not invited to the wedding, if you can recall, and Toby's parents were _pissed_ about it. We never told her about the girls either. She just appeared after Grace was born and… Well that's the only time she's had any interaction with either of them. With good reason, obviously."

"Obviously," Hanna agrees. "So her sight is just common knowledge?"

"No, but Toby's father seems to think it's necessary to update us on her life," Spencer rolls her eyes. "As if we should care."

"And now she's going to know everything about yours," Hanna nods. "I mean, I'm sure part of it is just jealousy. She can't get her life together and you two obviously have."

"Oh my god, what if she starts commenting?" Spencer asks. "What if she wants to see them?"

"Uh, tell her no?" Hanna replies as though it's obvious. "If I can remember correctly, you seemed to have no issue telling Jenna off."

Spencer chuckles just a bit, adding, "Neither did you."

It's almost midnight when she finally crawls into bed and her day had been so eventful that, aside from their good morning texts, she hadn't spoken to Toby at all. Without thinking about the time of night or how dead tired he must be, she calls him. And just as she's realizing how insane this is, how clingy she's being, just as she's about to hang up and call him back tomorrow, Toby picks up. "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry," Spencer replies instantly. "You're probably really tired. I'll let you go."

"That's it?" He chuckles. "You called me to tell me I should sleep?"

"I guess I didn't realize how late it is," She says sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I just… haven't talked to you all day."

"Well, I'm awake now," He yawns. "Talk."

Honestly, just hearing his voice is enough. She settles further into bed and says, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Toby professes. "And the girls. How are they?"

"They're good," She tells him. "Grace is in her glory. She keeps asking if McKenzie can stay forever."

"Well if Hanna would take your advice and move out of Rosewood, she could," Toby says and Spencer smirks.

"See? You listen to me. She doesn't," Spencer says. "Anyway, Lilly's obsessed with her. She calls her 'Nana' and curled up on her lap for her bedtime story and wouldn't let me put her to bed. So, I've been replaced, and Lilly's going back to Rosewood with Hanna tomorrow."

Toby laughs. "That's fair. I'll miss her, though. She was a great kid. Super easy baby."

"I know. We're losing a good one," Spencer jokes. "And to _Rosewood_."

"Hey, we lived in Rosewood for a while," Toby defends. "Both before and after we started a family."

"Yeah, and we got the _hell_ out of there, both times," Spencer refutes. "Because it's a disaster. And we're happier here, aren't we?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"And Emily and Aria followed for similar reasons, didn't they?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"And after everything we've been through in that piece of shit town, wouldn't it make _sense_ to want to leave? Like, immediately?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"And-" She pauses and then bites her lip, asking, "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yes, Spencer," He replies and yawns again. "It's fine. Who else are you supposed to rant to?"

"I'm sorry. I'll shut up," She promises and instead asks, "How's everything going over there?"

"Alright, I guess," He answers. "We're still on track and as long as that storm holds off, I should be home on Saturday."

"Good," Spencer says. "I'm ready for you to come home."

"I'm ready, too."

After a beat, Spencer finds herself admitting, "I joined Instagram today."

"You joined what?" Toby asks, puzzled. "Instagram? That hipster site people use to take pictures of avocados and Ferris wheels?"

She laughs. "Hanna made it for me."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You might be when I tell you who started following me," Spencer tells him. "Jenna appeared out of nowhere. I don't know how she found me and I wish she didn't."

He sighs. "Great."

"If you want me to delete it-"

"Spence, you can do whatever you want with it," Toby cuts her off. "Seriously. It's not a big deal."

"Believe me," She assures him. "I probably won't even use it."

* * *

And she stands by this, at least at first. When morning comes and Hanna and McKenzie prepare to head back to Rosewood, hugs are doled out and promises are made to visit again soon. As their car pulls out of the driveway and onto the road ahead, Spencer turns to find Grace wiping away tears. "It's okay if you want to Instagram this too, Mom," she tells her very confused mother. "I'm feeling more like Sadness than Joy today." She is, of course, talking about one of her newest Pixar favorites, _Inside Out_ , but this doesn't stop Spencer from using her direct quote as the caption for the photo. The picture gets likes and comments immediately; Hanna says, _Lots of love and hugs from both of us! We miss you already!_ Emily says, _Cheer up, baby girl!_ Aria comments, _She's even beautiful when she cries! Kiss her for me!_ And Spencer has to admit it- this is actually kind of fun. So she'll use it as Hanna described- a daily photo diary- and then she'll have these memories forever. Perhaps it isn't as bad as she once thought.

It doesn't take long before she's _hooked_ and with an addict's personality, she shouldn't have been shocked. On Thursday, Spencer takes the girls to the local children's museum in an effort to keep the girls busy and it is an outing resplendent with photo opportunities. They start in Creation Station where Grace takes a mini art class and learns about different types of shading and Lilly finger-paints excitedly, taking a moment, as all babies do, to have a taste ( _Starting the day off right! Newsflash- paint does NOT taste good! #savethearts #childrensmuseum #sillylilly_ ). After, comes lunch at the café ( _Actual words from Grace's mouth- Mom, I don't want French fries with my chicken nuggets. Can I have broccoli instead? #whoisthischild #howdidshegethere_ ) and then a trip to the science center ( _Grace continues to surprise us. I asked her what she wanted to do next and she said the science center, because, "I want to learn something today." #seriouslywhoisthischild #whereismy7yearold_ ) where Grace learns about local pond life and Lilly splashes around in the water ( _Update: we are wet now. Next time I'll bring a bathing suit. #pondorpool #childrensmuseum_ ). They dress as firefighters and Grace climbs into the driver's seat of the model truck, with Lilly tooling around with the hose ( _Don't worry, Grace. I got this. #futurefirefighter #myhero_ ) and then don aprons and trays of plastic food in the replica of a 1950s diner ( _Order up! #customerisalwaysright #ignorethegenderroles_ ). Everyone is tired out by the end of the day, Spencer included.

On Friday, it rains and rains and Spencer hopes that Williamsport is dry, for if it's not, this is surely the storm that would push Toby's job back a few more days. They stay in their pajamas long into the morning and Grace somehow manages to con Spencer into allowing lunch in the living room, as an indoor picnic of sorts. She's just returned from the kitchen, grilled cheese and juice boxes in hand, when she stops in her tracks and her heart melts from the sight before her. Grace is lying on her stomach on the floor, deeply engrossed in _Finding Nemo_ on the television before, her feet dangling, swinging in the air. Lilly is lying, too, but her little head is resting on her older sister's back, her head turned towards the screen, and she's sucking on two of her fingers, a sign of the utmost comfort. Spencer can't help herself; she snaps a picture and it ends up on Instagram ( _Sisters who find Nemo together, stay together. #graceandlilly #pajamaday #sisterlylove_ ). It's moments like these that truly put her heart at ease. The love between her two little girls is already so precious, so pure, so sacred, that she doesn't know why she ever fretted over having two daughters in the first place. Except, she does; Melissa had truly ruined all concepts of having a sibling, of having a sister, and the last thing she wanted is to subject Grace or Lilly to that kind of competition, that kind of pure hatred. Thankfully, she believes she and Melissa were a special case and now she knows Grace and Lilly are, too, but in the best possible way. This is how it's _supposed_ to be. Unknowingly, Spencer and Melissa are missing what Grace and Lilly have had all along.

Later that evening, when the girls are tucked away in bed and Spencer's on FaceTime with Toby, she confesses. "I have a problem. I'm totally obsessed with it, now."

"With Instagram?" He asks her and when she nods, he laughs. "I can't say I didn't see that coming."

"I thought I was better than that," She sighs. "Tell me I'm better than that."

"You are better than that," He tells her and when she scoffs he insists, "No, seriously. I mean, you could've joined when it first came out, but like the true hipster you are, you waited until _after_ the novelty wore off to join."

"I am not a hipster," Spencer defends herself. "I haven't taken _one_ picture of an artsy meal or a dramatic sunset. Grace and Lilly are my subjects."

"And what beautiful subjects they are," Toby says. "You can't blame your followers for wanting to see them grow. I miss them so much."

"Tomorrow, right?" Spencer asks hopefully and tries to hide the anxiousness from her voice. "The storm today didn't push anything back, did it?"

"Tomorrow," He affirms. "We didn't get a storm."

"Oh. It rained all day here," She says. "But good, I'm glad. We don't need you staying away any longer than you already have."

"Neither do I, believe me," He agrees. "I can't wait to get home to my three favorite girls."

* * *

Just as she's putting away clean dishes from lunch and trying to herd Lilly upstairs for a nap, Spencer hears the familiar sound of a truck tearing up gravel outside and soon, Toby is piling out of the car, trudging up the front steps and pushing open the door. Her heart soars when she sees him and she feels like a teenager all over again, and the truth is, the void she feels when he's gone is still the same emptiness as ever, but somehow, the elation within her when he returns has only elevated. He does have two tinier versions of this kind of excitement that reach him first, however. Lilly goes running from the bottom of the staircase to the foyer, throwing herself into her father's awaiting arms and giggling her adorable baby laugh. Grace hears the commotion from the other room and her face lights up when she spots her father. She hurries forward and hugs him just as he scoops her up into his free arm. He's kissing both of them over and over as they hug back fiercely, with reckless abandon, and it's like he's been away for years and years instead of a mere seven days.

Spencer has to hand it to her girls; it's certainly felt that way.

"Daddy!" Lilly squeals, bouncing excitedly, her tiny hands on either side of his face. "Daddy! Daddy!"

"Hi, pumpkin," He grins and pecks her cheek again. "I missed you guys _so_ much."

"Daddy," Grace then says. "We went to the planetarium and learned about black holes and did you know that it takes four million years for the light from an exploding star to reach the Earth? Four _million_ years! So the stars that we see at night now exploded _four million years_ ago! Isn't that crazy?"

"That's certainly crazy," Toby chuckles. "You must've learned a lot this week."

"Well, what kind of fall break would it be if all we did was stay home and watch movies?" Spencer smirks and then backpedals just a bit. "Granted, that's what we did yesterday. But that's one day as opposed to seven."

Toby chuckles and sets both girls on the ground again to fully greet and embrace his wife. His arms encircle her waist and he grins, saying, "Hi."

"Hi," She smiles gleefully and they indulge in a longing kiss. "Missed you."

"Missed you too," He says and then glances downward, in between them, where Lilly is whining and struggling to attach herself to her father once more. "Maybe not as much as Lilly, though."

"She loves her Daddy," Spencer tells him. "Also, it's nap time. She desperately needs one."

"Don't we all?" Toby comments and scoops the toddler into his arms again.

"How tired are you?" She asks. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"One to ten?" He wonders. "Thirty-five."

She chuckles and he kisses her quickly once more before shuffling Lilly upstairs for her nap. From there, Grace asks him to play a game of Life, which then turns into three games of Life, a game of Clue Jr. and a round of Scrabble, which she grows bored with halfway through and Spencer takes over instead. When Lilly wakes up from her nap, they have a snack and then the four of them go for a walk around the neighborhood and play on the swing set in their backyard. Grace rides her bike up and down the driveway and Lilly toys around with the sidewalk chalk and Spencer can tell Toby's at peace now that he's finally home. She can also see the exhaustion in his gaze, but that doesn't stop him from pushing Grace on the swing or chasing Lilly around the yard. They eat dinner and he tries to help her clean up but she refuses. He looks like he's going to fall over. She tells him if he wants to do anything he can tackle bath time, so that's of course what he does.

When they're clean and clad in pajamas, they retreat to the living room and Grace brings Toby a stack of books and her husband's a trooper- that's all that's running through Spencer's head as they get settled. She busies herself by making a few phone calls, returning some emails, and getting things together for work on Monday, knowing her time with Toby will come. But then, things grow quiet; _too_ quiet. She gets curious and pads softly into the living room and what she sees could make her heart burst. Toby's in an armchair and both of the girls are in his lap, Lilly on one side, Grace on the other. Lilly's curled into a ball, her chest against her father's, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and his arm around her, to make sure she doesn't fall from her perch. Grace has her knees pulled up to her chest and hair in her eyes, grasping somewhat firmly onto one of her father's fingers, where the book has fallen from his grasp onto the floor, forgotten. All three of them are sound asleep and it's possibly the most adorable thing she's ever seen. If there was ever a time when Spencer thought Toby couldn't possibly get any more attractive, him becoming a father and subsequently parenting those children blew that theory of hers way out of the water. She can't help herself; the moment calls for it. Sneakily, Spencer slips her phone from her pocket and snaps a photo. It ends up on Instagram not moments later.

 _The three loves of my life. I could not be any more blessed. #sleepyhomecomings #sweetdreams #welcomehometoby_


	5. still i have the pictures in my head

**Hello friends! Happy March! Spring is on its way and everything's wonderful. Lol. Hopefully you guys are doing well and all that jazz. Thank you for your time on the last chapter; glad you enjoyed, glad I still managed to hold your interest (that's what always amazes me, honestly). So I've been recently diagnosed with anxiety (which is a weird thing to type; is that a real diagnosis? I guess so) and though I was super irritated/super angry about it at first, I'm at peace with myself over it finally and I guess, honestly, I should have seen it coming all along. Regardless, I really, really wanted to work that into fiction and so, anxiety is at the center of this chapter. I'm sorry in advance if that's not your thing.**

 **I'm going to be away for a while because I'm taking a much-needed vacation. Actually, I'm going to Disneyland (! Tomorrow! And for the first time!) and I'm super, super excited. I'll still be reachable but it might take me a bit to respond- I'll be partying it up with the mouse, 60th anniversary celebration-style. So yeah. I wanted to update before I left to... I don't know. Hold me over til I got back. Okay. Cool. Glad we're on the same page. :P Chapter title is from "Moon and Me" by Nicolette Larson and for those of you who have ever wondered what it's like to get an anxiety attack in the middle of nowhere, well look no further! It's paralyzing, it feels like you're dying... Good times. :) Okay, love you all. See ya real soon!**

* * *

still i have the pictures in my head

"I've honestly never been more stressed in my life."

"Why? Isn't this supposed to be fun?"

Spencer shoots her best friend a glare through the mirror and Hanna immediately backs off. "What? I mean we were fighting for our lives as teenagers and you finished your entire master's degree in two semesters, but _this_ is the most stressed you've ever been?"

"Those were different situations though," Spencer sighs. "I've been so stressed, I've been losing weight. This is my dress size but do you see this?"

She pulls at the silky fabric and it bunches away in her hands. Easily, she could fit another person in there with her. Aria comments, "Spence, you didn't even have weight to lose in the first place."

The brunette in question exhales heavily and Hanna, once again, tries to bring light to the situation. "I never thought you'd get this stressed over marrying Toby."

"It isn't marrying Toby, Hanna," Spencer replies, not appreciative of the jest. "That's all I've wanted for years. Believe me, that's the easiest decision I've ever made."

"Can I help you make this one?" Aria then asks. "Because you look amazing in this dress."

Spencer glances at her reflection in the mirror and fully, truly takes in the sight before her. It's a dreary morning in early March, all wet streets and rainclouds but no rain, and Spencer had gathered her three best friends and, to her own dismay, her older sister together in an effort to shop for a wedding dress. They'd been engaged since their most recent anniversary in November and though that evening had been the happiest in all her twenty-four years, she can't say the days since have been the same. Turns out, planning a wedding is a more involved process than she ever could have imagined and to say it's gotten away from her would be an understatement. There once was a day when Spencer believed she and Toby would sit down together and iron out all the details of their wedding together, with no pesky outsiders giving out their opinions. Unfortunately, it doesn't turn out this way.

Hanna then says, "Okay, well I was joking, but _clearly_ we aren't in the mood for that. What's up? Why are you so stressed that it's making you thinner and balder?"

"I'm losing my hair too?" Spencer exclaims, stepping gingerly towards the mirror to examine her scalp and then frowning when she realizes she's once again been duped.

"Hanna, don't quit your day job," Emily chastises. "Is there anything we can do, Spence, to make it easier?"

"Hmm…" Spencer considers this, turning to the side to see how far the veil falls down her back. "Can you uninvite my parents and future in-laws?"

"Ooh," Aria frowns. "That bad, huh?"

"My mother is trying to do _literally_ everything," Spencer lists. "My father keeps complaining about how much everything costs and bickering with my mother about every little thing. And don't even get me started on Toby's parents. There isn't enough time in the world."

"How's everything going?" The store clerk addresses them, bringing over a sample tray of champagne and a few slices of wedding cake. "I thought I'd add a little snack to help set the mood!"

"Oh, thank you," Spencer replies. "It's good so far. My sister's picking out a few more. She claims she knows dresses better than I do and, honestly, she's been married three times. She's probably right."

The clerk chuckles and says, "Well let me know if there's anything I can do! Congratulations, again!"

She bustles away to help another bride-to-be and Aria balks, "Wait, three times? Who came between Ian and Wren?"

"Oh her exploits in Italy during her semester abroad yielded her much more than an album full of photos and a shit ton of debt," Spencer explains. "That is, instead, the story of how Melissa was married to a waiter named Sergio for a month and twenty-seven days."

"Oh my god," Emily's eyes are wide. "That's…"

" _Awesome_ ," Hanna finishes. "Do you think she'll be pissed if I ask her about it?"

"Yes," Spencer nods. "Which is why you totally should."

Aria smirks. "Glad to see you girls have put the past behind you and decided to let bygones be bygones."

Spencer shrugs and goes back to complaining. "Remember when I wanted my wedding to be a modest, backyard gathering of our families, friends and friends' families?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "That's not even _close_ to what it is, anymore. Now, the wedding's in fucking _Rosewood_."

Hanna gasps. " _No!_ "

"Yes," Spencer frowns. "It's at the club because, in the words of my father, 'No self-respecting daughter of mine is getting married next to our pool like some backyard barbeque'. Why does he even _care_?"

"I mean, he _is_ paying for it," Emily shrugs and Aria shoots her a look.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Spencer's!" Emily insists. "Obviously Spencer's. But I mean, come on, does it matter how you get married, Spence? As long as it happens?"

Spencer considers this a moment before shaking her head. "Yes, it matters. It matters because a club wedding with a twelve-tiered wedding cake and five _hundred_ people is the exact wedding I don't want."

" _Twelve tiers?_ " Hanna exclaims. "That's possible?"

"Apparently," Spencer sighs. "I don't know. All I know is my mother is making all the decisions and this wedding is turning into more of a hassle than a cause for celebration."

"What does Toby think of all of this?" Emily wonders. "I highly doubt he's in favor of the five hundred people either."

"No, he isn't, but he's dealing with his own thing," Spencer informs them. "His parents still, apparently, haven't gotten over their dislike of me. It's fine, I guess; I mean, it's not like I need their approval for validation or anything. I love him and I know that he loves me and he doesn't care what they think. But… We're going to be family and it would be nice if we could stand to be in the same room together."

"Have they ever expressed this distaste for you?" Aria asks and Spencer bites her lip.

"No."

"Then for all you know," Aria says. "It could be something else."

"Yeah, I guess," Spencer states. "And Toby will swear to me that they don't hate me, but I don't know. I'm still not buying it. And if they do, me marrying their son can't be something they approve of. That thought alone gives me anxiety. And on top of all this wedding stress… I'm losing my mind, here."

"Okay, here," Hanna says, pushing one of the flutes of champagne into her friend's hand. "You need this more than any of us do."

Spencer grins and accepts it gratefully. "Yeah, no shit. I really do."

The four girls clink their glasses together and Aria places hers back on the tray as the other three sip at the sparkling liquid. Emily asks, "No champagne for you?"

Aria shakes her head, her voice small. "No thanks."

"Here Spence," Hanna offers after the brunette has downed her glass. "Take Aria's too. She won't be drinking anything harder than apple juice for a long, _long_ time."

Spencer and Emily's brows knit together in confusion before turning to find Aria with a death glare on the blonde. " _Aria!_ "

"Thanks a lot, Han," Aria sighs. "I can always count on you, can't I?"

"I can't keep a secret," Hanna shrugs, sipping at her champagne. "This is on you."

"You're pregnant?" Spencer exclaims and when the petite brunette does nothing but nod slowly, Spencer shakes her head in disbelief and sinks onto the couch beside Emily. "Oh my god. I need to sit down for this one."

"I haven't told anyone except Hanna and the _only_ reason Hanna knows is because she was with me when I found out," Aria explains. "But I should've known that if Hanna knows, the whole world will, too."

"I can't believe one of is going to have a kid," Emily shakes her head and Hanna nods her agreement.

"I still _am_ a kid."

"Tell me about it."

"Is it terrible?" Spencer wants to know. "Are you throwing up and peeing all the time?"

"Honestly? No," Aria shrugs. "I've had a few headaches and I've been exhausted, but that's pretty much it. I don't know what to expect. I'm going to the doctor in a few hours, actually and… We'll go from there."

"That's good," Emily replies. "Have you told the father?"

"Who _is_ the father?" Hanna asks instead and Emily elbows her in the ribcage.

Aria shoots her a look. "Who do you think?"

"Aria, I love you, but please don't tell me you're having a baby with our former English teacher," Spencer pleads. "Literally anyone but him."

Aria frowns. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh my god, I bet this was his plan," Hanna shrieks. "This is probably his way to keep you _forever_."

"We _do_ love you," Emily tells her, a hand on her knee. "And we love your baby already and we'll take care of both of you. We'll support you. Don't listen to what those two say."

Aria smiles softly. "Thanks Em."

"Aria, of course we love and support you," Spencer insists and Hanna, once again, nods her agreement.

"I didn't mean to judge," Hanna insists. "I just don't want you to get stuck with him by default. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Aria says. "I mean, I wasn't planning on us spending our lives together or anything; not anymore. But we reconnected and if this is happening, then… I guess I have to deal with it."

"I'm sorry," Spencer says in return and Aria is immediately shaking her head.

"No, Spence, _I'm_ sorry." She states adamantly. "It's your wedding and I'm ruining it with my drama."

"Honestly," Spencer assures her. "It was kind of nice to think about something _other_ than the wedding, for once. If you need to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

"Thanks," Aria replies gratefully and spots Melissa returning with an armful of fabric. "Preferably not around your sister, though, because she's the most judgmental person on the planet."

"I'll drink to that," Spencer chuckles and Hanna and Emily join in her toast.

"What is she even doing here?" Hanna asks. "I thought _I_ was your maid of honor?"

"First, I haven't picked one yet. It's not exactly easy when you have three best friends _and_ a sister to consider," Spencer tells the blonde, who purses her lips. "Second, she invited herself. That's Melissa for you."

"Spencer, don't sit down in that dress." Melissa chastises immediately upon arriving. "You'll wrinkle the fabric."

"So I'm not allowed to sit on my wedding day?" Spencer grumbles, standing and stepping onto the platform in front of the mirror once again.

"Of course you are, but it's not your dress yet," Melissa replies and then eyes her sister up and down. "That one's wrong for you."

Spencer runs her hands over the silk defensively. "I like this one."

"You're skin and bones now, apparently, and this dress makes you look like the Corpse Bride," Melissa says and then gestures towards her armful of tulle and organza. "Luckily for you, I have several other options."

Spencer stares at her sister before sharing a look with her friends. All three of them are shooting her apologetic glances. After a beat, she takes the top one and disappears into the dressing room. "Give me that."

She emerges moments later in a dramatic ball gown straight from a Disney movie. Melissa gasps and says, "That's it. That's the one. You look _amazing_."

"I look _ridiculous_ ," Spencer disagrees. "Who made this dress? A pack of mice or my fairy godmother?"

"Spence, I think it's nice," Hanna says, a grin on her face. "Just make sure your shoes are the right size or you might slip right out of them."

"Yes," Aria agrees, snickering. "And make sure you're back by midnight. That limo will turn into a pumpkin."

"Ha, ha," Spencer deadpans. "This dress is outrageous. Help me get out of it before I rip it to shreds."

Emily hops to her aid to undo the tiny hooks at her back as Melissa sighs. "You are so picky."

"Am I?" Spencer wonders. "Forgive me for wanting something nice to wear. I'm not you, Melissa; I only plan on doing this _once_."

"Okay you're done," Emily announces loudly, cutting off what would likely be an indignant response from the elder Hastings. "Go. Go put a new one on."

Spencer does as she's told and, in her absence, Melissa sighs, "She's always been difficult."

"I mean…" Aria shrugs, trying to keep the peace. "Ultimately it's her decision. We're just here for moral support and to offer an opinion."

"I guess you're right," Melissa frowns and then says, "It's kind of crazy, isn't it? That we're all here? I remember when you girls were thirteen and coming over for sleepovers. Now look at you! You're all adults."

"Yeah," Emily smirks. "Crazy."

"And getting married. I remember when Spencer told me she was engaged. I felt like a grandma," Melissa shakes her head and then looks up, startled. "I don't even know how he did it!"

"Ask Emily," Hanna tells her, eyeing her friend narrowly. "She basically did everything."

"I did not," Emily rolls her eyes. "I was just there for him to bounce ideas off of. He's one of my best friends."

"You're just mad because he told Emily he was proposing and he didn't tell you," Aria points out cheekily and Hanna rolls her eyes.

"Well it _is_ kind of bullshit," Hanna notes and then calls, "Spence, I still haven't forgiven him for this."

From behind the dressing room door, they hear her chuckle. "I'll let him know."

When she steps out, the girls take a moment to marvel at the beautiful gown before Melissa asks, "So? How did he do it?"

"How did he do what?" Spencer replies distractedly, picking at the bodice. "The beading is a little much, don't you think?"

"Forget the beading, look at the sleeves," Hanna shakes her head. "Hell no. You wear strapless or you wear nothing. You have great shoulders even if your chest is flatter than a twelve-year-old boy's."

Spencer smirks. "Thanks, Han."

"How did he propose to you?" Melissa insists. "You told me you were engaged and I think we just automatically launched into wedding preparation without focusing on the engagement."

"I'll say," Spencer fidgets. "I can't do this. I'm putting the first one back on."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Oh my god, _relax_ ," Spencer says, the door closing behind her. "We were playing Scrabble, I reached in to get a few new letter tiles and found the ring instead. The end."

"That's _it?_ "

"Don't mind her, she's stressed," Emily says. "It was way cuter than that."

In minutes, Spencer's back in the original dress she'd loved and in front of the mirror to examine it once more. "He played the word 'Quoxwood,' which he tried to tell me was some type of tree, but I was pretty sure that wasn't a real thing and I was freaking out about not knowing something-"

"As you do," Hanna teases.

"As I do," Spencer echoes, finally learning to play along. "So I'm freaking out about it and just totally rambling and I don't even know _what_ I was saying. And he just kept telling me to take new letters, take new letters, take new letters and it was _pissing_ me off because he wasn't listening to me and I'm sure I was pissing him off because I wasn't cooperating with his plan."

"You two are so loving," Aria teases and Spencer grins in spite of herself.

"So I finally gave in and took the little bag of letters," Spencer says. "And I shook some out into my hand and in the middle of the tiles, there was the ring."

"Aw!" Melissa coos. "Did you cry?"

"A little," Spencer chuckles. "I mean, I wasn't straight up bawling. And I guess I'm weird because of that? I guess that's what people do?"

"Well, yeah, they do," Melissa says. "That's great though. And now I have a follow up question. What do you think about the color scheme Mom proposed? She said you're ignoring her calls."

"I am," Spencer nods. "Because mustard and charcoal looks as disgusting as it sounds."

Melissa yanks out her vibrating cell phone and says, "She's calling now. What do I tell her?"

"Ooh, tell her about that time you broke her pair of crystal turtledoves three Christmases ago," Spencer suggests. "She'll love that one."

Melissa stands and rolls her eyes, immediately taking the call and leaving the room. "Hello? Yeah, we're almost done. Yeah, I'm with her now. Don't worry; I saved her from buying this truly heinous dress even though she's being particularly difficult today…"

Emily glances at her best friend and offers, "It'll get easier, Spence."

Spencer says nothing at first. She does a complete circle in the mirror and she can hear wedding bells and see Toby's sparkling smile. "This is the one. This is my dress."

It feels unbelievably wonderful to have made a single decision, but the weight has hardly been lifted from her shoulders. She makes arrangements with the tailor to have it scaled to her measurements and schedules her dress fittings in between cake tastings and wine samplings. To celebrate, she and Hanna and Emily go out for lunch at their favorite restaurant, wishing Aria luck as she heads for her fateful doctor's appointment. And Spencer truly enjoys herself, as she always does when she's out with her best friends, but anxiety has always accompanied her thoughts like a ghost of the past she can't seem to exorcise, and sooner or later, that gloomy cloud of stress and overwhelming confusion is back. By the time she returns home, the carefree manner she'd had with her friends is gone and the moment she spots Toby, she walks into his awaiting arms and clings onto him tightly.

"That bad, huh?" He says after a moment and she exhales a sigh in response. "It's supposed to be fun, you know. Planning a wedding."

"If one more person tells me this is supposed to be fun, they're moving to the top of my hit list," She pulls away unhappily. "Who said that? Who said it was supposed to be fun? I'd like to strangle them."

"Hey," Toby meets her eyes. "It'll all be over soon. We don't have _that_ much planning left and then all this stress will be worth it when we have the perfect wedding."

"Will it?" Spencer wonders and turns to sink into the couch. "It's getting so out of hand. It's like unrecognizable now. It's not the wedding we talked about having way back when."

He sits beside her, a calming hand on her back. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," Toby disagrees but she shoots him a look and he asks instead, "Did you find a dress today?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Melissa says it's all wrong for me but… I really liked it."

"I bet she's wrong," Toby tells her. "I bet you look amazing. I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle. I can't wait until you're mine forever."

Despite everything, this makes her smile. "I've always been yours forever."

He grins too and reminds her, "So we've got our wine tasting in an hour. Are you going to be okay to go?"

"I'm fine. I told you I'm fine," Spencer insists. "A little stress isn't anything I haven't handled before."

He gives her a look and she sighs, shaking her head. "Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to say anything!"

"You wanted to! You were thinking it!"

"I wasn't thinking anything! Just…" He sighs. "Just talk to me. That's all. Tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing to talk about; you _know_ what's going on," She says. "Everything's really hard but tasting wine isn't. Let's just go."

He gives in. "Are you driving or am I?"

"I had three glasses of champagne at the dress shop, so you should," Spencer says. "And I'm not making a decision today on which wine we serve until I've gotten properly hammered, first."

He smirks at this notion and she wonders if he realizes she's only half joking. On the way, she receives a phone call from the caterer confirming their menu selections and it's a good thing they'd called to confirm because they'd gotten everything entirely wrong. Midway through their first sampling of light bodied white wines, she gets a dozen emails from her florist and they're all contradicting the last. Her sister is texting her, meanwhile, about other dress shops they can visit to really round out her choices and suddenly, Spencer feels like she can't breathe. An iron fist has reached from deep within her and begun to squeeze all of the air out of her lungs. She inhales deep breaths to try to control herself but it's like she's breathing through a straw and none of the air goes past her throat. The room begins to swim and she's seeing two of their gracious host, who's just brought back a brand new bottle of wine for them to try. She looks at Spencer like she's grown a second head.

"If you don't like the light bodied white," She begins to explain hesitantly. "Then I have a various selection of-"

"I…" Spencer chokes out and the rest of her sentence dies on her lips. An elephant is sitting on her chest. She's going to pass out.

Toby takes one look at her and immediately jumps into action. Standing, he pulls her up with him and asks their host, "Will you excuse us a moment? We're just going to… get some air."

Her surroundings blur and the sunlight is much too bright and that elephant on her chest is not budging. Her face is hot and she's lightheaded and her eyes sting. The pavement swirls beneath her and her knees go weak and her legs give out and she collapses on the steps, Toby going right down with her. His arm's around her shoulders and she thinks about the appointment they'd just walked out of and the iron fist clenches harder. She's definitely not breathing. She's definitely going to die. At least, that's how it feels; it's how it always feels. And it's almost as if he senses this, because he holds onto her a little tighter and says, "It's okay. Take a deep breath. It's okay."

"I can't," She tells him and her blood is racing and her heart's palpitating and she hates this, she hates this whole fucking thing.

"Yes you can," He disagrees. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're okay. Just breathe."

 _Just breathe_. As if it's that easy. As if the unrelenting iron fist will ever let go. But she does as he tells her and for some reason, she blurts out, "I'm pretty sure I'm dying."

It makes him laugh and the elephant moves only slightly, its kryptonite being laughter and happiness and Toby. "I'm pretty sure you're not. It's just an anxiety attack. Not the worst one you've had, either."

"I can't breathe," She tells him again and he nods like he's known all along.

"That'll come back. It always does," Toby says. "It's okay, you know. Just let go. Let it all out."

And this is what breaks her. The elephant disappears and the iron fist unclenches and her lungs heave with a giant inhale. Tears spill over her cheeks and she confesses, "It's just… It's fucking _everything_ , Toby."

"I know it is," He says. "You've been stressed for weeks. What can I do to make it easier for you?"

"I don't know," She cries. "The caterer can't get our menu right no matter _how_ many times I call and have him change it."

"I'll go down there first thing tomorrow," He promises. "What else?"

"The florist is more of a basket case than I am," Spencer lists. "And she's made fourteen different arrangements because she keeps running out of flowers and she emails me _constantly_ about it. I don't even care about the flowers!"

"Forward them to me," Toby says. "I'll take care of it."

"I have five hundred invitations I have to address and send out now, apparently," Spencer complains. "Because my mother has no limit when it comes to the people she needs to impress."

"I'll talk to her."

"And my Dad won't stop bitching about how much everything costs but at the same time he won't cut back _anywhere_ ," Spencer sighs. "And your parents are… are…"

"I'll talk to them too," Toby assures her and rubs her back a little. "It'll be okay. I'll fix it."

She smiles appreciatively at him, wiping at her eyes, but insists, "But you can't do all of that alone."

"No. But neither can you," Toby reminds her and it hits her _hard_. "This is _our_ wedding, right? We're supposed to be in this together."

Spencer sighs and rubs her hands over her eyes. "I don't think that's true anymore."

"We're not in this together?"

"No, I don't think it's our wedding," Spencer corrects him. "Remember when we first talked about the wedding we wanted? Do you think that's the one we're getting?"

"No," Toby admits. "But there are ways to fix that."

"Are you sure?" She wonders. "We're in so deep now, I don't know if we can ever go back."

"Well…" He sighs. "We can also just forget the whole thing."

Her eyes widen and that iron fist is reaching towards her once more. "What? Why?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Toby immediately backpedals. "I mean… We could forget the wedding. We could forget the whole thing. We can get our friends and get out of here. We could elope."

"We can just leave everything behind?" Spencer asks and Toby nods. "Forget about the flowers and the food and the tablecloths…"

"Our bickering parents, the venue, the guests," Toby says. "We wouldn't have to deal with any of it."

"My parents would literally never speak to me again," Spencer tells him. "But that might be a nice break."

"Say the word," Toby tells her. "Say the word and I'll call the whole thing off."

"I'd like to," Spencer considers but then shakes her head. "But we deserve this. We deserve something good for a change. We deserve to have _one day_ be about us. And… And we deserve to celebrate."

"Well," Toby smiles. "Can't argue with that logic."

"But we're going to take it back, right?" Spencer asks. "We're going to take it back from my sister and my mother?"

"Of course we are," Toby agrees. "It's not going to be the wedding she wants. But it'll be even better, because it'll be the one _we_ want."

She grins and wraps her arms around him, breathing him in, her stress melting away. He kisses her neck and asks, "Are you okay?"

"I am now." She says and wipes at her eyes, trying to make herself presentable again. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For losing my shit. _Again_." Spencer sighs, pulling away. "Let's go get more wine. I really need it."

Toby shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm serious, Spencer. If you ever need-"

Her phone jingles between them and she groans. "I swear to _God_ -"

"Let me," Toby insists and she hands her phone over without question. His eyebrows knit together as he reads aloud, "'Turns out- false alarm. Not pregnant! Thank GOD!' Um… When was Aria pregnant?"

Spencer lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and a small bout of laughter. "Well, never, I guess. She thought she might be. Ugh, good. Good for her."

"You may need to fill me in later."

"Will do," Spencer stands and offers him her hand. "Now can we get drunk now?"

Toby chuckles and agrees, taking her hand. "Ah, my charming wife."

* * *

She's uncomfortable. There's a month and a half to go and she's already feeling the strain this pregnancy is taking on her body. Not to mention her mind; she's arranged with all her professors to allow her to email in her assignments and take the first few weeks of class online, but she can feel the stress beginning to creep into the forefront of her brain. Spencer feels entirely prepared on pregnancy and childbirth; in between her classes, her midterms and her final exams, she'd read book after book detailing every possible outcome, every possible symptom, and every possible complication of pregnancy. She'd made Toby do the same regardless of how less than thrilled he was to do so, but she feels ready for anything. Anything, that is, except for _actually_ parenting said child; she doesn't know how to be a parent. She doesn't know how to change a diaper or calm a colicky baby or do _anything_ baby related. And maybe she could've learned if she hadn't been so busy fighting for her life as a teenager, but now her due date is coming closer and closer and she's excited; really, she is. But she's also terrified and nervous as _hell_.

She's just left her final class of the day and steps out into the chilly December air, shivering as she hails a cab. Struggling to pull her coat more frequently around her bulging frame, Spencer shifts her bag of books on her shoulder and swears under her breath as yet another cab goes speeding past her. She's pregnant, carrying a large bag of heavy books and it's barely twenty degrees out- how _dare_ they ignore her. Once again, she makes a promise to herself, upon finally climbing into the warm belly of a cab, that the second she gets this degree, they're moving the fuck out of the city. She misses driving, she misses an apartment she and Toby both fit in and she misses being in control. When she'd been in undergrad, living in New York City had been fun and glamorous and being broke had almost been funny, because that's how life is _supposed_ to go when you're a kid. But she's not a kid, anymore. In fact, she's having one. And New York City, with all the partying and the bustle and irresponsibility, is not the place she'd like to raise her child. Of this, she is certain.

Upon reaching their apartment, she rummages through her bag to search for her keys and simultaneously attempts to text Toby with one hand, inquiring his estimated time of arrival home that evening. He texts back almost instantly to let her know he'll be out a _while_ and she frowns. Then she hears a soft giggle on the other side of their apartment door followed by a stifled _hush_ sound and her heart begins to pound. She texts Toby back with _It's fine. I'll probably be dead by the time you come home_ and slips her key into the lock. One hand on the doorknob and the other protectively on her belly, Spencer pushes the door open and flips on the light switch, her eyes widening at the sight before her. There's a banner hanging over their kitchen reading, 'Welcome Baby Cavanaugh!', balloons and streamers in both blue and pink and about a dozen of her best friends. Food and presents are scattered on the table before her and she is, honestly, speechless.

"Surprise!" They shout in unison and she still doesn't know what to say.

"What… Oh my god," Spencer stutters. "How?"

"We wanted to do something nice," Aria grins and reaches for her friend, hugging her close. Stepping back, she comments, "You got big since the last time I saw you."

"Yeah, don't remind me," She chuckles. "Thank you. Seriously, this is awesome."

"Not long now, right?"

"Eight weeks," Spencer tells her. "Wait, no, seven. We're getting close."

"Hi!" Hanna shrieks and pulls her friend into a hug. "Decorations by me, of course."

"You texted Toby saying you were dying?" Emily asks a moment later, showing her phone for evidence. "You're so dramatic, you know?"

"Hey, you hear voices on the other side of your empty apartment, you assume things," Spencer shrugs and hugs her too. "By the way, I'm glad he texted you about it and not me, like he's totally fine with his wife and unborn child being dead."

"Oh my god," Emily rolls her eyes. "He gave us the spare key, you know. It's not like we broke in."

"Well, let us give you the grand tour," Aria then decides, hooking her arm through Spencer's. "Over here we have the gender predictor. As you can see, boy's in the lead with twenty-two votes as opposed to the seventeen for girl. Then we have my favorite- guess the birthday. You'll love Hanna's."

"December 25th?" Spencer implores. "You want me to go into labor early?"

"No," Hanna shakes her head. "But come on, a _Christmas_ baby? How perfect is that?"

"Anyway," Aria carries on. "Emily looked up a few baby shower games on Pinterest so I figured we could play those. Then we have your gifts and of course-"

"Cake?" Spencer's eyes widen. "Let's start with cake."

They chuckle and agree with her cravings, passing everyone a piece as they swap stories and catch up. Party games and gifts are soon to follow and that's when things get interesting. She's thirty-three weeks along now and the baby's the size of a head of lettuce- or so her What to Expect app has told her- and so that must be why it's suddenly so hard to breathe, right? As she's opening her gifts the baby does a somersault within her before coming to rest right at the base of her lungs and he or she has been getting bigger and bigger and Spencer's positive this is why she's so short of breath. It's not because she's gotten a ton of things for the baby and only knows how to use half of them. It's not because as all her friends are leaving, they hug her and wish her good luck and it makes her feel dizzy. And it's _definitely_ not because Toby comes home an hour later, glances at all their new things and then jokes that the baby won't have anywhere to go, now. It seems that her lung capacity diminishes even further throughout dinner and as she's getting into bed. She lies awake for hours, focusing on the baby squirming within her, just as restless as she is, and somehow, slips into unconsciousness.

It's been years since her subconscious has tortured her and so maybe she's overdue. Maybe it's been a long time coming or maybe her recent parenting stress has triggered it instead. Either way, she knows it's a dream; she knows. But she can't pull herself from it, can't wake up no matter what she tries; she's a prisoner within her own mind. The apartment looks just like it does, now, and she's on the couch with a term paper, tapping away at the keys, when she hears it- a faint baby cry, somewhere in the distance. Closing her laptop with urgency, Spencer hops up and searches every nook and cranny of their apartment; in cabinets and drawers, under tables and behind doors, but she cannot seem to locate the child and the baby's cries grow louder and louder. Spencer races from room to room and tears apart the apartment frantically, tossing pillows and papers and laundry into the air, and the infant begins to wail. The cries have turned to pained screams and they're muffled, as though the child's being carried away. Spencer yanks open the front door and the screams worsen. Just as she steps over the threshold into the hallway, she frowns and glances downwards. There, spilled all across the floor, is a trail of fresh blood.

Panic fills her veins and she follows the trail blindly, the cries leading her down the stairwell, out the door and into the alley behind their complex. Her eyes are filling with tears as the cries grow louder and more and more heartbreaking. Somewhere, deep down, she knows this is her child and she's unable to find the infant, whom she knows is in some type of horrible distress and her heart is racing and she's filled with anxiety and she doesn't know what to do. The trail of blood has stopped but the screams are ever-present, ear piercing, and guttural, and in the snow, behind a rusty dumpster, she finally finds her child. Her vision swims in unshed tears and she doesn't hesitate to tear the shirt from her back to wrap the child in it. Her hands are shaking and she can't staunch the wound, can't even locate it, so she brings the baby close to her heart, bounces the little one in her arms and the crying ceases. She lets out a sigh of relief before pulling back to glance at the tiny one's features. Only then does she realize the infant is no longer breathing. _No_ , she wails and it all comes out of her in one animalistic howl. _No no no no no no no no!_ She screams and screams and screams until her voice is raw, until her throat bleeds, until she feels a presence behind her, and when she glances up, Toby is there, his face pale, his steel blue eyes harsh and accusing. _Spencer_ , he shouts and her name has never sounded so foreign. _What did you do?_

She doesn't even realize she's awake and screaming at the top of her lungs until her vision clears and she feels Toby's hands on her, holding her steady. She can't breathe. The walls are closing in on her and that familiar iron fist is clenching at her lungs, the elephant taking room on her chest. There are thousands of pounds of pressure pushing down on her chest and she can't get any air in and she immediately panics, thinking only of the baby. Toby's got conflict in his eyes, as if he's fighting the same internal battle she is, and she watches him debate with himself before slowly letting go of her, trusting her not to fall apart right before his eyes. Instead, he takes her hands in his, slips them over her dome of a belly, where their child is nestled, heart beating soundly. Oddly, this calms her and he reaches for her shoulders, gently massaging the aching muscles and kissing her troubles away.

"It was just a dream," He tells her softly and there's pain in his voice, so upset her terror still plagues her. "It's okay. You're okay."

Her breathing is shallow and she somehow gasps out, "I killed… I killed the baby."

Toby's eyes widen and he shakes his head, his hands coming to cover hers. "No you didn't."

"I did. I…." She can't breathe. The elephant is unmoving. "Blood and… I…"

"Spencer," He says her name sharply, ending her mindless babbling. "The baby's right here. You're keeping him or her safe. It's all okay."

"I'm having…" She manages to croak out. "I can't-"

"I know," Toby nods. "Take a breath. Try and calm down. You're going to go into early labor."

She shoves her face in her hands, saying, "Not helping."

"Spencer," Toby tells her, reaching for her and pulling her close. " _Breathe_."

She rests her head on the soft, warm skin above his heart and focuses on breathing slowly; _in and out, in and out, in and out_. That combined with the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat somehow chases that old elephant away and releases the iron fist's menacing grip. Her breathing is almost back to normal when she quietly admits, "I'm going to be a terrible mom."

"Oh babe," Toby frowns, holding her tighter. "No you're not."

"I don't know how to be a mom," She continues. "I don't…"

"You don't what?"

"I don't think I can do it."

Toby pulls back to look her in the eye. "Is this what you're so anxious about?"

She hesitates before nodding. "I was so excited. I was so ready. But lately… I've been thinking about everything that's going to happen once the baby's born and it just freaks me out. And it's getting closer and closer and I'm getting more and more nervous because I'm going to have this baby and they're going to put him or her in my arms and I won't know what to do next."

"And you think you can't figure it out?" He wonders, genuinely curious. It's something she's always loved about him; he never, ever judges her.

"I don't know," Spencer sighs. "And it's that uncertainty that scares the shit out of me. I'm such a mess, Toby. I've always been a mess. And someone as… as… _unstable_ as me should not be in charge of another human life."

Toby looks so unhappy by her thought process and she needs to get it all out, so she continues. "I know it's probably just the hormones. It's the hormones and the anxiety and fear. But… If I'm feeling this way now, it's only going to get worse when the baby's here, right?"

Toby's quiet for a long time. When he finally grasps the ability to speak again, he asks her, simply, "Do you want this baby, Spencer?"

"Of course I do," Spencer replies without a moment's hesitation, put off that he'd even ask her such a question. "I want this baby so much. I never thought I'd want anything this much."

"And you don't think you can be a mom?"

She finds herself shrugging and frowns when Toby grins. "Spencer, you're _already_ a mom."

"I'm what?"

"You're working _so_ hard in school right now," Toby points out. "And why do you think that is?"

"So I don't fail all my classes," She answers. "And so I can get my PhD."

"So you can…?"

"So…" She trails off. "I can… Become a doctor?"

"Right," Toby nods. "You're going to be a doctor. You're going to help people. You're going to make money. You're going to get a _great_ job to provide for your child. That's what a mother does."

Spencer considers this and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"You're very protective," Toby then says. "I've seen the way you protect yourself when you think there's danger or some kind of uncertain situation nearby. You probably don't even know you're doing it, do you? It's just instinct. And you know what that instinct is?"

Spencer bites her lip, shaking her head, and Toby fills in, "It's maternal instinct, Spence. You're already a mama bear protecting her cub."

She smiles a bit. "Really?"

"Of course," He says. "And you're already taking great care of our little munchkin. She or he is healthy and thriving and growing. Our doctor is super impressed with you. And so am I. I know it's only going to continue when the baby's born."

"That's true. I hadn't really thought of it that way."

"And, the most important part of all," Toby says. "You love this baby so much already and you haven't even seen him or her. You haven't even _held_ him or her. He or she hasn't even been born yet and they already have the best mother on the planet, because she loves them _so_ much."

Spencer's smile is watery when she professes, "I love _you_ so much."

"I love you too," He echoes. "It _is_ the hormones. It _is_ the anxiety and the fear. And that's okay. I know it's scary and it's new. But it's going to be okay. I don't know how to be a dad. But I'm going to figure it out; _we're_ going to figure it out together. Just like we do everything else."

She collapses against him once more and closes her eyes in peace. "Thank you so much. This baby is so lucky to have you as their father. And I don't know what I'd do without you."

Toby kisses the top of her head and snuggles her in tight. "You'll never have to find out."

* * *

"I can't believe we're here. I can't believe we're doing this already."

Lilly scrunches her nose. "Mom, you've said that like a hundred times."

Spencer can't help herself. She's still trying to figure out where all the time has gone and where her tiny little girl went, because this beautiful young woman standing before her, the one in the wedding dress, can't be her Lillian Rose. "I'm sorry. It's the second time I'm going through this and I thought I'd be better but clearly…"

"Mom, it's okay," Grace puts in, coming into the conversation, one hand over the slowly growing dome of her belly. "You're the strongest person I know but even strong people need a moment of weakness."

Spencer sighs and wonders, not for the first time, how she could possibly be old enough to see her babies get married- and have babies of their own. "I was a much bigger mess when you got married, Grace."

"You were," Grace agrees. "I'm very proud of you for keeping it together."

Spencer chuckles and turns back to Lilly. "Veil time?"

She inhales a deep breath and nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do it."

Reaching into the box beside her, Spencer lifts the veil into the air and affixes it into the mass of Lilly's chestnut curls. A few bobby pins secure it in place and she winces the tiniest bit as the comb digs into her scalp and for reasons of nostalgia, Spencer's heart aches. Her tiny girl who had come into this world much too early, had cried her eyes out on the first day of kindergarten because she'd been afraid to leave her mother's side, had founded a brand new philanthropic club in college and had raised thousands, has become such a remarkable human being. She's marrying the love of her life, her childhood sweetheart, and Spencer sees so much of herself in her middle child and yet, paradoxically, so very little. So much of her delicate personality is a conspicuous mix of traits from both her parents, but in her everyday actions, all Spencer sees in her is Toby. Spencer inhales a deep breath, trying desperately to keep her emotions in check, and reaches for both of her girls, pulling them close to her. Their arms come around her automatically and they become an unbreakable unit.

It's bittersweet watching them grow. Spencer grins and says, "My beautiful girls. I love you both so much."

"Love you too, Mom," Grace grins back.

Lilly beams. "Love you."

A bridesmaid pokes her head in and says, "Hey. Sorry to interrupt. Everyone's lining up, the quartet's all set. We're ready to go when you are."

"Thanks Rachel," Lilly replies softly and the girl nods, the door shutting behind her. "Oh god. It's time."

"It's time!" Grace squeals excitedly. "These are your last moments as a single woman, Lil. Are you ready?"

Lilly inhales a deep breath once again and nods. "Yeah."

"I'll let you get situated, then," Spencer smiles. "I'm going to go find your father."

"Okay."

"Good luck!" Grace grins. "Say the right name, okay?"

"Grace," Spencer shakes her head as her oldest heads out of the room for the lineup. Glancing back at Lilly, she notes the girl is shaking. "You okay?"

"Uh huh," Lilly says and takes another deep breath. "I'm fine."

"You aren't nervous, are you?" Spencer asks. "You'll be fine. You and Sam have been waiting for this for months."

"Yeah," Lilly agrees, her voice small.

Spencer eyes her a bit longer and asks, "Would it make you feel better if you saw him? Talked to him?"

"I can't do that," Lilly disagrees and turns away from her, sinking into the nearby armchair. "It's bad luck."

"Then what is it?" Spencer wonders. "What can I do for you?"

Lilly glances at the floor and asks, quietly, "Can you get Dad?"

Spencer softens and nods, squeezing her shoulder in passing. "Of course. I'll be right back."

She slips out of the room quietly, gives Grace her best 'everything's fine' look, and heads into the main seating area, her eyes seeking out her husband immediately. He's seated beside Henry, their son strapping and taller than both of them, now, conversing to pass the time. He glances up and meets her eyes immediately and they still soften upon the sight of her, even after all these years. "Hey."

"Hi," Spencer greets him warmly. "The bride would like to see you."

Toby asks, "Is she freaking out?"

"A little bit."

He nods as if he's expected this and follows her back to where Lilly is waiting, a hand clutched to her chest. Her breathing is shallow and upon the sight of her, Toby kneels down beside her and begins to rub her back. "Hey, Lil, you're okay. It's okay to be nervous, but Sam loves you and you love him and it'll all be alright."

"There's so many people," Lilly says. "Why did we invite so many people?"

"They all love you," Toby tells her. "They're all here for you. They're here to share this occasion with you."

"It feels like…" Lilly sighs. "Like-"

"Like an elephant's sitting on your chest, right?" Spencer fills in and Lilly nods.

"Yeah," She agrees. "Like I'm breathing through a straw."

"Your Mom understands this better than I do, Lilly," Toby tells her. "She's struggled with it for years."

Lilly glances up at her mother and wonders, "You have?"

"I have," Spencer nods. "It gets better. It gets _easier_."

"Well," Lilly exhales. "That's good to know."

Toby smiles. "Are you ready?"

Lilly shakes her head. "I don't think I can."

"Lil," Toby addresses her. "Do you want to get married?"

"Yes," Lilly nods. "More than anything."

"Do you love Sam?"

"You know I do."

"Then," Toby shrugs. "You can do it. That's all you need to remember."

Lilly intakes a few more calming breaths and the color comes back to her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her father and says, "Thank you. I needed that."

"Of course, sunshine," Toby grins and kisses her cheek. "I'm always here."

She stands, runs her hands over some of the creases in her dress and announces, "Okay. I'm ready to get married."

"That's my girl," Toby says and kisses her once more. "My arm is ready when you are."

Lilly laughs nervously and as Spencer goes to leave, she hurries to catch her mother for one last hug. Spencer holds her close and reminds her, "It gets easier."

"Marriage or anxiety attacks?"

"Anxiety attacks," Spencer says. "Marriage does the opposite."

Lilly chuckles. "Oh great."

"Well, if you're like me," Spencer grins, locking eyes with her husband. "It'll be the best thing you ever do."

Lilly takes one last calming breath and reaches for her bouquet. Spencer leaves her behind, joining her son as the quartet begins to play. The bridesmaids trickle down the aisle, splitting off on either side of the altar as Grace, the maid of honor, enters in last. The entire congregation rises to their feet and the look on Sam's face goes from apprehension to pure, unadulterated love and awe. Lilly's beaming; all evidence of her previous anxiety attack completely erased. She's got a fairly tight grip on Toby's arm as he leads her down the aisle, but otherwise, she's cool as a cucumber. It makes Spencer's heart swell with pride, with gratitude, and with love. She couldn't ask for a more perfect family; her wonderfully patient, loving husband, her three brilliant beautiful children. She doesn't know where she'd be in life without any one of them but she knows her life would be thoroughly incomplete. Spencer watches as Toby kisses Lilly when they reach the front and then joins her, tears in his eyes.

"Wow, you're right," He whispers as the priest begins the ceremony. "This doesn't get any easier the second time."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one losing my shit around here," Spencer grins and reaches for his hand. "I'm about one deep breath away from my own anxiety attack, here."

"No, you're not," Toby says. "You haven't had one in years."

"Yeah, you're right," Spencer tells him. "And you've had a lot to do with that."

Toby nods towards their daughter as the couple exchanges rings. "You think he'll take care of her?"

"I know he will," Spencer says. "We raised good kids, Toby. They make good decisions and choose good people."

Toby grins. "We did a pretty good job, I'd say."

"Yeah," Spencer sighs happily as the couple is pronounced husband and wife. "I think we nailed it."


	6. i'll always love you and make you happy

**Hello friends! I'm back! And I came back to a plethora of wonderful reviews from you lovely people! God, I love all of you. Here I am, enjoying the hell out of myself and truly dreading going home, and then when I did, I was welcomed with awesome messages from you guys. You're so great. I had an amazing time and I super, super needed it. But alas, back to the real world. Yes, I'll try and update more often now that I'm clear-headed again. No, you're not only going to see the kids as adults now- that's the beauty of this story. Time isn't linear, here, which means I get to jump back and forth, show you the future, show you the past, and everything in between. So yeah, in the last chapter, we saw Grace and Lilly married, Henry a tall, strapping adult, but in this chapter, it's just days after Henry's birth and Grace and Lilly are still teeny. Fun yes? :P**

 **So I'm going to talk about my trip for five seconds so if you don't want to read, skip ahead. We went to California mostly for Disneyland and we were there for a week- we got back very, very early Sunday morning (like, 3 a.m. early). My roommates and I all wanted like a girls' trip and we all work for Disney so why not? However, we flew in a day earlier than we'd originally booked our Disneyland trip for, so we spent a night in L.A. We ended up taking the Warner Brothers Studio Tour. You know what show films on the WB studio? Well, a lot of them, but most importantly PLL.**

 **I got to see Alison's house, Emily's house, the florist-thing where Emily most notably got the "GLASS IN HER HAIR" and Hollis but when we actually drove onto the set, we had to put all cameras away. But guys... We drove past the church. We drove past the school and city hall. I was freaking out LOL. And when I thought it couldn't get any better, our tour guide parked the tram and we got out and literally walked onto the set. Of course, it was a Sunday, so no one was around, but we walked through The Brew, the hallway of the high school and Ezra's classroom. I was literally ON THE SET. Freaking the fuck out, mind you. And as we were leaving, I saw the outside set of Toby's loft. I mean, it just looked like a bunch of slabs of wood but it said very clearly "Toby's loft" on it LOL. What I wouldn't give to have gone onto that set :P**

 **Oh, as we were leaving I also saw Marlene King's parking space. Notably, it was empty (once again, it was Sunday), but man. It was mildly disappointing. I have some words for her. LOL. :P**

 **Anywayyyyyyyy, the chapter title comes from "You Are My Sunshine," which, coincidentally, also helped name the story. Sorry I rambled for so long. I just thought you might want to know LOL. Oh, Disneyland was amazing and magical and everything I hoped it would be AND more. Thank you for sticking with me. Love you all!**

* * *

I'll always love you and make you happy

"I think we're in over our heads here."

Toby glances over at her and the exhaustion she sees in his eyes is unlike any other. "You don't say."

Once upon a time, they had been polished and poised, a practically perfect family of three. Things had been rough towards the beginning, with her still being in school and Toby in between jobs and their tiny, colicky little infant, but they pushed through, it blew over, and time went on. Their little infant grew and grew and so did they, as parents and as people. They traveled across the world, lived abroad, and had plenty of family experiences and after a while, they started believing they were pretty much nailing this parenting thing. And that's when they'd made The Decision. For weeks- months, even- after Grace was born, Spencer and Toby decided it was enough; they were adamant that they were going to be one of those "one and done" couples and that Grace would forever remain their only child. Between the gut-wrenching Jenna fiasco and Spencer's own difficult past with Melissa, it only further proved their theory that siblings were nothing but trouble. However, as Grace entered kindergarten, they began to miss her squeaky little laugh, her tiny toes, the baby smell… And all fears and qualms about siblings went out the window when Lillian was born in May.

The moment Grace set her eyes on her little sister, a love blossomed between them that neither of their parents can describe. The six-year age difference between them has never proven to be an issue; Grace plays with little Lilly as if they're twins and Lilly adores her so much that when she's upset, she often cries for her older sister to comfort her. Two kids are definitely more of a juggle than one, but the age difference helps; Grace is, as expected, the greatest little helper they could ask for. Plus, they're both older, now, instead of being the twenty-year-old children they still were when they'd conceived Grace and they _do_ already have one under their belt, after all. They feel more prepared, ready for anything, and they love their two little girls dearly. Still, Spencer feels mildly incomplete; her girls are simple perfection and she wouldn't change them for the world. Yet she finds herself almost yearning for a boy, for a new challenge, for a third try, and before she and Toby can agree to try for just one more, she finds she's already pregnant again.

It's too soon; it's the first thought she has. She and Toby had _literally_ just decided that once Lilly was in preschool, they'd focus on baby number three. But Lilly's only eighteen months old when she conceives and it feels almost like it did the first time- when she was in school, when she was twenty-four, when she had _nothing_ established yet. She finds out just before Christmas, just before Grace turns eight, just when they're finally settling into a routine again, and she laughs so hard she makes herself cry. This is how her life always goes, after all. She's lucky if she can plan anything, because surprises are more a part of this deal than she'd bargained for. She worries for only a couple hours; Grace gets super excited again, tries her best to explain to Lilly what's happening, and Toby looks at her in that way that destroys her, every time. She figures they'll be all right.

Fast-forward a handful of months and weeks, and here they are, a family of five. Or, so they have been, for just three whole days. It has not been easy. She'd given birth to little Henry just three days ago, and his birth had been wild and chaotic and mildly traumatic, and she hadn't had much time to recover before the hospital gave the two of them a clean bill of health and sent them home. Needless to say, the first day had been eventful; family and friends alike had visited all day long to hold and coo over the little boy, bring food for his exhausted parents and little gifts for his sisters who were both already feeling a little jilted. It was nice, but overwhelming, and none of their guests were here for any of the actual work- the baths, the feedings and the bedtimes. It's almost two a.m. This entire day was a surreal blur.

"Are you happy to be home?" He then asks and he's looking at her expectantly, as if he's asked before, and she wonders if he has. She wonders if she'd fallen asleep, eyes wide open. It wouldn't have been the first time, after all.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "I'm definitely ready for sleep in my own bed."

"Sleep?" Toby implores and yawns, shaking his head. "I don't know what that is."

She chuckles and there's a tiny squeal emanating from the infant in her arms. Clearly, their son doesn't know that sleep exists, either. She regards him in mild concern, saying, "He was asleep. He was _literally_ asleep ten seconds ago."

"Maybe he's allergic," Toby suggests. "Grace had the same issue."

"Yeah but Lilly was such a good sleeper," Spencer counters. "We're on our third kid. I assumed it'd get easier from here."

He disagrees. "Lilly was a little princess. Still is. We got extremely lucky with her."

She sighs. He's probably right. He reaches for the baby and she shifts Henry into his arms, taking extra care to mind his fragile neck and tuck the blanket more firmly around him, fussing over him even after he's left her arms. She imagines this is how it'll be his whole life. Toby rocks the baby just a little as Spencer asks, "How long did it take to get Lilly down tonight?"

"About an hour and a half," Toby admits. "But that's if you count bath time too. So just the bedtime was probably like… An hour fifteen."

"Oh my God," Spencer groans. "She better grow out of this phase. I don't know where it came from, but I don't like it."

"It's called being a toddler," Toby replies. "She's two. She's testing her limits."

"Grace never did that," Spencer says. "She never went through those terrible twos."

"No," Toby agrees. "But she was a threenager. And that was somehow worse."

Spencer considers this for a moment and then asks, "Why are our kids so fucking weird?"

"Because they're _our_ kids," Toby replies, an amused smile on his face. "Have you looked at us lately?"

She smirks and then fidgets with the baby blanket a little, addressing Henry when she says, "I'm sorry I swore in front of you, munchkin. I better not ever hear anything like that come out of your mouth."

"Just you wait, huh?" Toby says, grinning as the baby coos a little. "Tell her, Hen. Say, someday Mommy, I'm going to have a sailor's mouth too and when you ask where I got it from, I'm going to say I learned from the best!"

Spencer laughs and the baby grins a gummy smile at the sound. "I'm so tired. I'm literally _so_ tired. And my whole body hurts; it's like I was hit by a tractor-trailer. Remind me why I did this three times? Contractions _hurt_ and somehow I forgot. Like how could I forget?"

"I think that's kind of the point." Toby shrugs. "If women remembered the pain, everyone would only have one kid."

"That's probably true," Spencer says and trails a finger down Henry's baby soft cheek. "But that being said, this tiny one is our last one, so I hope you're satisfied."

"Spence," He says and he's still completely genuine, even when he's dead tired. "I've never felt more complete."

He's always saying things like this, things that melt her insides. She's sure she'll be a puddle of goo by the end of this marriage. "Even though it's going to be- and arguably already is- so much harder now?"

"Even still," Toby agrees. "It's going to be fine. We've just got to get into a routine. I'll be with you for the first two weeks and then-"

"Oh my God, no. I can't look that far ahead," She shakes her head, leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed. "One day at a time, please."

"Okay. Then tomorrow. What do you want for tomorrow?"

"Sleep." Spencer says. "Honestly, just sleep."

"Well, that I _cannot_ guarantee," He says and gets up carefully, the now slumbering infant still in his arms. "I'm going to put him down and then we can try."

"It's two-thirty," Spencer says. "Which means if we fall asleep _right this second_ we'll get maybe four hours of sleep until Lilly climbs out of bed."

"Maybe four and a half if she's feeling lazy and makes us come get her," Toby thinks aloud, placing the baby gently into the bassinette at the foot of their bed.

"Or maybe _five_ if she waits for Grace to get up," Spencer speculates hopefully. "That's the real dream."

"Who are we even kidding?" Toby asks. "It's not like Henry's going to sleep through the night. Five hours, uninterrupted? That's crazy."

"Let's tag team this," She suggests as he climbs back into bed with her. "I'll get up with him if he needs to be fed because I'm kind of his only option. And you'll get-"

"Diaper duty," Toby fills in. "Because that's left by default."

She chuckles. "I'm sorry."

"You're really not."

"Well, when you figure out a way to breastfeed, then we can share."

It's his turn to laugh. "Goodnight, Spencer."

"Goodnight. And good luck," She yawns as they lie down and welcome sweet, sweet sleep. "See you on the other side."

They're just on the precipice of slumber when the soft cry of an infant is heard. There's one and then two and then anguish fills the room. They both sigh. Sleep is, apparently, a thing of the past. Pushing back the covers begrudgingly, they crawl towards the foot of the bed, peer over the edge of the bedframe and into the bassinet, where Henry's tiny little face is scrunched up in agony. It's too soon to tell if he's hungry or wet, but soon, they don't need to. His eyes fly open, he takes in his surroundings, and the tears stop. Both his parents watch in awe as he quiets easily and then, instead of distress, his face relaxes into a complacent smile instead. He regards them with a toothless grin, as if he already knows he's got them wrapped around his tiny finger. Three days in and they can already see the mischief in his eyes; this is how it's going to be from now on.

And this is the moment Spencer and Toby realize it- this kid is going to be trouble.

* * *

"Lilly," Toby pleads, reaching for her spoon and dipping it into her cup of yogurt. "Please just take a bite. It's strawberry. It's your favorite."

Lilly, however, is perched in the kitchen chair and bawling as if he'd asked her to throw herself over a cliff. He inches the spoon towards her mouth and she cries harder, turning her head defiantly. "No Daddy! No!"

"Honey, you have to eat _something_ ," Toby sighs in frustration. "You've got to be hungry. You didn't eat any dinner."

"No!" She shrieks unhappily once more. "All done! All done!"

"Lilly, you haven't eaten anything," He frowns. "Just one bite. Please. Your yogurt or your bagel. Please, Lil. Come on."

" _No!_ "

"Maybe I can get you some fruit? Or some cereal?"

Her lower lip quivers and she lets out a heartbreaking wail, fresh tears spilling out of her hazelnut eyes and down the contours of her cheeks. Toby's just about ready to throw in the towel. It's been a few days now since they've brought Henry home and Lilly has decided she's not the biggest fan of the youngest member of their home. Usually their easy child, she has since become quite a difficult one instead. Bedtime is a struggle beyond belief; they can never give enough hugs and kisses and cuddles, never read enough stories, and her nightlight's never bright enough and her blankets are always too hot. She potty trained easily enough, but over the past few days, she's been having accident after accident, almost as if on purpose. And, of course, she's nearly gone on hunger strike. She's maybe had a few bites of food in the past few days and her parents are definitely struggling with it.

It takes them a couple of days to figure it out- she's been used to being treated as the baby, but now there's a new baby, and she isn't taking lightly to it. She cries a lot, clings to the both of them when she can, and is miserable more often than not. It's frustrating to say the very least and not one trick of theirs has worked to calm her. This they were not expecting. Grace, when they'd first brought Lilly home, had had a little bit of a hard time adjusting, but she was older and it was easier to reason with her and to explain that they couldn't be at her beck and call. But Lilly's merely a toddler and reasoning with a toddler is profound but technically meaningless. Oh yes. Having three children is _much_ harder than just having two.

Out of the corner of his eye, there's movement from the other end of the table. Grace has just finished her breakfast and is pushing back her chair and bringing her plate and cup to the sink. He has an idea. "Hey, Grace?"

"Yeah?" She says without looking up, her silverware clinking against plastic.

"Maybe you could help me get Lilly to eat something?" Toby suggests. "She pretty much does whatever you say anyway."

"She's not gonna eat it," Grace disagrees. "She's not hungry."

"She has to be hungry," Toby refutes. "She hasn't eaten anything since lunch _yesterday_ and that was only a couple of grapes."

Grace considers it before shaking her head. "No. She's not going to listen to me!"

"Grace, _please_. Please just try," Toby sighs. "Please help me. You're my helper, right?"

She bites her lip. "Right."

"Thank you."

The eight-year-old reaches for the spoon, scoops up a bit of yogurt and tries to con her sister into eating it. "Lilly Pad it's so, so yummy! Look it's pink just like your jammies! Strawberry's your favorite!"

"No Gracie! No Gracie!" Lilly shakes her head. "No!"

"Come on, Lilly," Grace tries again. "Just take one little bite and then-"

" _No!_ " Lilly shouts and pushes the cup of yogurt off of the table, careening towards the floor. Grace jumps out of the way just in time for it to splatter all over the hardwood floor.

"See?" Grace shrieks. "I _told_ you, Daddy."

"You were right," Toby sighs. "I'm sorry. Thanks for trying, at least."

"I think this calls for some frozen yogurt after we go to Target today," Grace says, stepping out of the way as Toby begins to clean up the spill and Lilly wriggles free from her chair. "To celebrate me being right."

He chuckles but asks, "We're going to Target today?"

"Daddy!" Grace panics. "We have to get my school supplies today! School starts in three weeks and I have nothing! You promised! You can't forget!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Toby shakes his head and it all comes back to him. "Target. Right. Go get dressed."

"And frozen yogurt?"

"We'll see. _Go get dressed_."

She scurries up the stairs and Lilly toddles out of the kitchen, leaving her father behind. He has absolutely no recollection of promising Grace a trip to Target, but he's honestly not surprised. His brain has been a pile of mush lately and with all that's going on with Henry and Lilly combined with sleep deprivation, it's no wonder a simple conversation has completely slipped his mind. He goes back to work at the end of next week and though he's looking forward to the change of scenery, he also could stay home all day, every day with his three children and have no qualms with that. Toby doesn't know how he's going to function his first few days back- mostly because of the sleep deprivation but also he'll miss them so much. It's all very conflicting.

Once breakfast is cleared away and the dishes are clean- and the floor no longer smells like strawberry puree- Toby heads out of the kitchen and supposes he should get himself together if he's going to play chauffeur for Grace's school supply trip. On the way to the staircase, he passes by the living room, where Spencer is cocooned on the couch, nursing Henry. A sappy, saccharine smile grows on his face and he can't help the fluttery beating of his heart. It happens every time he sees her with one of their children; the unadulterated love pouring from her eyes gets him every single time. Spencer loves each of her children with a fierceness greater than he'd ever seen and he knows she doubts herself more than she believes, but their kids adore her and she is the greatest mother he has ever seen.

She glances up, catches him staring. "What?"

He simply grins at her, because sixteen years and three kids later, he's more in love with her than he ever has been. "You're so beautiful."

"What?" She exclaims in surprise. "I haven't showered yet today, my hair is a mess, there's a baby hanging off of me, I'm pretty sure he threw up on me, somewhere-"

"You're beautiful," He repeats and she shoots him a small, somewhat confused smile in return. "I'm taking Grace school supply shopping at Target. You want me to bring Lilly too so you can get some peace and quiet?"

"That would be nice, actually," Spencer nods. "Maybe you can get her to eat something? I'm sure Grace will con you into getting her frozen yogurt."

"She already has," He chuckles. "We're going to Target. Do you need anything?"

She shakes her head. "I'm good. _We're_ good. Say bye to Daddy, Hen. Tell him we'll miss him!"

He steps a little closer and leans down to press a kiss to his son's tiny forehead just as Spencer shifts the baby to her shoulder. "I'll miss you, too, Henry. I love you."

Toby captures Spencer's lips next and grins a bit, professing, "And I love you."

"Love you too," She says. "Hurry back."

"Will do," He promises.

It's early August and it's sticky and hot; the girls both complain about the car's hot leather seats and Lilly grows ornery and cranky, squirming in the shopping cart and Grace spends fifteen minutes deciding between the purple pencil case and the blue one. She has to sniff every single one of the scented markers before deciding against them and grabbing the 64 pack of Crayola crayons, the one with the built in sharpener, of course. Lilly pitches a fit when they stop for frozen yogurt but of course, days in, this is the first meal she eats; she sucks down every last drop. Grace drops the tiniest bit of birthday cake flavored fro-yo onto her shirt and bursts into tears, claiming it's ruined. Lilly falls asleep on the way home and Grace compares her folders and can't choose a favorite.

Fatherhood is one hell of job. Toby loves every second of it.

* * *

She pats his back firmly and the baby coughs a little, sputters, and then spits up all over her. It's something Spencer will never get used to- there are always so many bodily fluids involved with children and somehow, they always end up everywhere but in their little bodies. It's sticky and warm and uncomfortable and of course, she'd forgotten the burp cloth, so there's nothing to wipe it up with. Grace is personalizing her notebooks and folders, creating grand artistic masterpieces, on the coffee table in front of her. She's so intently focused on her drawings and choosing just the right colors to compliment them and it momentarily distracts Spencer, a smile on her face. She's been blessed with Toby's artistic ability, something that comes so easily to both of them, and it's always astounded her. For a moment, she almost forgets she's covered in baby vomit. Almost.

"Grace," Spencer beckons. "Can you run to the laundry room and grab me a clean burp cloth?"

"Yeah," Grace replies and reaches for a yellow crayon instead.

Spencer glances at her expectantly. "Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to help me out?"

Grace glances up, bites her lip and asks, "With what?"

"Getting me a burp cloth," Spencer repeats. "From the laundry room. Please."

"Okay, okay," Grace stands and Spencer swears she sees the little girl roll her eyes. She's gone just a moment but when she comes back, she asks, "Remember when you said I was your helper?"

"Yes," Spencer says, accepting the burp cloth and immediately beginning to clean herself up a bit. "You still are. And I'm glad you are. You're the best one."

Grace considers this before sinking back in front of the table and shrugging. "I don't think I want to do that anymore."

Spencer frowns and tries a different approach. "Um… Well, are you ready to go? Grandma's going to be here any second."

Grace shrugs and continues shading in the corner of her notebook. Her mother prods a little further. "What's wrong, babe? You were excited about going to the summer festival yesterday."

Grace shakes her head. "I just don't like going back to Rosewood."

Spencer smirks. "No, _I_ don't like going back to Rosewood. What's really going on?"

"Grandma's taking Vivian with us," Grace admits reluctantly. "And she's just going to forget about me, too."

"Honey," Spencer says, empathetic. "Nobody could ever forget about you."

"But Mommy," Grace disagrees. "You and Daddy kind of did."

Spencer's heart breaks. It's moments like these that make her feel like the worst parent in the world. "Is that what it feels like?"

Grace shrugs again and turns back to her coloring just as the doorbell sounds from the foyer. Toby calls from the depths of their house that he'll answer and then there are voices she recognizes as her mother's and her niece's. Lilly scurries past moments later and just as they're readying themselves to go, Spencer glances at her oldest child and notes the brooding disposition on her face. Toby appears moments later and addresses her, "Hey Grace! Grandma's here! She's ready to go!"

Grace sighs but before she can answer, Spencer says, "Actually, she's going to stay here with me. My Mom can take Lilly and Viv, but I need some Gracie time."

Toby balks. "Oh. Okay."

"I'll go explain it to her so you don't have to," Spencer assures him and then turns to her daughter, whose eyes are wide. "Is that okay with you, kiddo?"

She nods slowly, a small smile on her face. "Really? I can really stay?"

"Well, do you want to go to the summer festival with Grandma?"

"Not really."

"Then you don't have to go," Spencer says. "Easy enough, right?"

She nods a bit more rapidly this time and Toby smirks. "Okay, I'm lost. Do you want me to take the baby? We'll go for a walk or something and give you two your mother-daughter time."

"That sounds good," Spencer agrees and hands the baby to him. "I'll go talk to my Mom."

When all is settled and they have the house to themselves, Spencer returns to the living room to find Grace still standing moderately in awe and confusion. "You okay, Grace? I can still probably get Grandma to turn around and come back."

"No," Grace shakes her head quickly. "But… What are we going to do?"

"We can do anything you want," Spencer promises her. "We can bake or color or play a game…"

"Can we watch a movie?" Grace asks and Spencer nods.

"Sure. Anything you want. Really."

Grace shoots her mother a wry smile. " _Frozen_? Like old times?"

Spencer hesitates. "Okay."

Her daughter bursts into giggles. "I'm just kidding, Mom. I know you hate that movie."

"I don't _hate_ it, but you did watch it everyday for a year when you were six. Sometimes multiple times a day," Spencer points out. "I don't need to watch it. I can _recite_ it."

Laughing still, Grace says, "How about _Toy Story_?"

"Sounds good."

They snuggle on the couch together and just as Andy's toys are fretting over being replaced, Spencer asks, "Are you excited about third grade?"

She nods easily. "Yeah. Except none of my friends are in my class."

"You'll still see them. At lunch and at recess," Spencer assures her. "And you'll make new friends. You're great at that."

"You know who _is_ in my class?" Grace frowns. "Brady McCall."

"Oh _no_!" Spencer chuckles. "Well, he knows better than to cross you. And you better not touch him, understand?"

"I won't," Grace replies automatically. "He's still so mean, though."

"Well, that's something the teachers and his parents need to handle," Spencer tells her. "Not you. They need to teach him to be nice to everyone, whether you like them or not. Isn't that what I always tell you?"

The eight-year-old nods. "Yes. It's not easy."

"No, I know it's not," Spencer sighs. "But life isn't easy, right?"

"Right." Grace says and then asks, "Can we have some ice cream?"

"Ice cream and a movie?" Spencer grins. "Sounds like the perfect girls' afternoon to me."

"You know what I'm really excited for?" Grace wonders once they're settled with identical bowls of cookie dough ice cream.

"What's that?"

"Third grade is when you get to put on the America play," Grace says. "And if you do a good enough job, you get to try out for drama club next year. I really want to do that."

"My little actress?" Spencer implores. "Grace, you're such a drama queen. You'd be _perfect_ for the drama club."

Instead of delighting her, this makes her expression go a bit moodier. "Wait, will we have time for that? Because of Henry and Lilly?"

"Honey," Spencer shakes her head. "You're my kid, too. I'll make time."

Grace sucks on the spoon a little and says nothing. Spencer glances at the screen, where Woody's just pushed Buzz out of an open window, and says, "I think Potato Head's my favorite. He says some really funny things."

"I like Woody," Grace tells her quietly. "He's just like me."

"Why?" Spencer teases. "Because he's got a ton of friends and he's a born leader?"

"No," Grace admits and avoids her mother's prying gaze. "Because he's trying to get back to Andy after Buzz replaced him."

It all makes so much sense. Spencer's sensed Grace has been feeling a little left out lately and it's certainly something she can understand, having grown up in the House of Hastings. If there's anything she's not going to repeat, it's this. No child of hers will ever feel as lonely and as despaired as she had. "Grace… Daddy and I have been really busy with Lilly and with Henry lately and I know that hasn't been easy for you. You've been a really big help to both of us, but I know that you're growing tired of it. And I'm sorry. I really am."

"I still love them," Grace glances up at Spencer with big, sorry blue eyes and for a moment, Toby is all she sees. "Lilly and Henry. I love them a lot."

"I know you do, honey," Spencer nods. "And they know it too, even though they're still young. You're the best big sister they could ever ask for."

Grace probes, "But?"

"No. No buts!" Spencer insists. "It's okay to feel the way you do. Daddy and I have been having a harder time adjusting than we thought we would. But I still love you as much as I always have. No, somehow even more. I'm sorry if it feels like we forgot you. But you have to know we haven't. You're one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, Grace. You're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

Grace scrunches her nose and asks, "Even when I'm thirty?"

"Even then."

"Even when I'm a hundred?"

"You'll be a hundred and I'll be a hundred and twenty-four," Spencer says. "And you'll still be my baby girl."

Grace laughs. "That's a really old baby."

Spencer laughs too. "Here, tell you what. Lilly and Henry are younger than you; they'll go to bed much earlier. When they do, you and me and Daddy… We'll read a book or watch a movie or play a board game or get ice cream or go to the moon if that's what you want. We'll get our Gracie time every night, okay? I don't want you to ever feel forgotten again."

Grace nods. "Okay."

"Okay?" Spencer asks. "Can I have a hug?"

Launching herself into her mother's arms, Grace nods and giggles just a bit. Her daughter is a wonderfully positive, wonderfully happy little girl who loves with reckless abandon and Spencer's glad she is. She certainly didn't get that from her mother. Spencer hugs back just as tightly and kisses her tiny cheek. She doesn't know what she did to deserve such a magnificent child but she isn't going to complain. Just as Woody and Buzz team up and find their way back to Andy, the front door twists open and Toby reenters, Henry in his arms. Grace squeals in excitement and hurries to greet him with a hug, which her father gratefully returns, kissing her crown. Returning to the living room, Grace plops back onto the couch beside her mother, props a pillow beneath her arm and begs to hold her younger brother. Toby agrees easily and shifts the baby carefully into her awaiting arms.

"Did you have a nice walk?" Spencer asks as the credits roll on the screen before them.

"Yeah, except it's a scorcher out there," Toby tells her and kisses her in greeting. "He slept for a little while, but I think the heat was just too much."

"He's the one who decided to come in August," Spencer teases as Toby sits beside her.

"Well, he was supposed to come in July."

"That you do not have to remind me," Spencer says. "I was the one super pregnant in this God-awful heat, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Toby states. "I thought you and I would both end up dead."

"We almost did," Spencer reminds him. "Need I bring up the AC unit incident?"

"No, you need not," Toby chuckles. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?"

They glance over at Grace, who is cooing sweetly at her little brother. "You're the cutest little baby ever, Henry! I'm gonna teach you everything; how to tie your shoes, how to ride a bike, how to get Mommy and Daddy to give you another cookie for dessert…"

"Wait!" Spencer turns to her husband in surprise. "You fall for that too?"

"Every time," Toby confirms. "I always figured _you_ didn't."

"How can I not?" Spencer defends. "She always gives me that face… I'm powerless."

"Me too," Toby agrees. "In the best way, this time."

Spencer grins and then laments a bit, saying, "Ugh. I miss Lilly. I want all of us to be together."

"Don't worry, I'm sure she's on her way back." Toby assures her. "From what I remember, the Rosewood summer festival didn't have much to draw crowds."

Sure enough, Veronica drops Lilly off about a half hour later, just in time for dinner and with complaints that the little girl didn't eat a single bite. Her parents aren't shocked; instead, they're heart-warmed when she toddles into the living room and pulls herself onto the couch next to her older sister. Grace giggles and welcomes her sister with a one-armed hug and kiss. She addresses the infant in her arms, saying, "Don't worry, Henry. Lilly and I will protect you from everything. Right, Lilly?"

"Baby," Lilly says, sloppily kissing her brother on the cheek and forehead. "Kisses! Kisses!"

"And when you bring home a girlfriend for the first time, Lilly and I have to make sure she's right for you first," Grace continues. "Or a boyfriend. It doesn't matter. And if anyone like Brady McCall tries to tell you it does, I'll punch him in the face."

Glancing up at her parents, Grace giggles, "Just kidding, Mommy."

"Daddy, I hungry," Lilly says then. "Hungry, Daddy."

Spencer grins, her heart three times its normal size, and turns to her husband. "Yeah. It was so totally worth it."


	7. the god and the weight of her world

**Hi guys! Happy first day of spring! Yay! Hopefully all is well with you guys. I've had a few crazy days at work lately and, shock of all shocks, it's the ride that's been insane, not the guests! What a time. All in a day's work at the World, am I right? Lol. Anyway. Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter! It really does amaze me that you continue to enjoy the nonsense that I'm putting them through. Also, be on the lookout in the near future because the few scenes I watched from 6x20 have inspired me to write a fic. It's really taking flight (not really; just in the brainstorming process, but still) which is annoying and exciting because ughhhh. I want to write so bad, you guys. So bad! I most likely will, let's be real.**

 **Anyway, that's my life. This chapter finds us dealing with one of the most momentous occasions of any young teenager's life. The chapter title comes from "Daughters" by John Mayer (I know, right? He's the freaking worst, but I love this song, ugh) and so... I hope you enjoy! Thank you for putting up with me and for reading and reviewing and being wonderful little butterflies. I love you all!**

* * *

you are the god and the weight of her world

Spencer hasn't been this stressed out since she was a PhD candidate.

She'd written her dissertation on oppositional defiance disorder, ADHD and autism and had had to work with some difficult cases. She'd been up for hours on end researching different types of anti-social behavior and even longer, still, citing and cross-referencing her thesis statement, the librarians knowing not only her name, but also her coffee order and her usual favorite table to work from. She'd barely slept, barely eaten, and spent more time with her eyes glued to the blurring lines and blinking cursor on her laptop as she struggled and toiled to crank out her best work. And on top of all that, she'd done everything with an infant at home or, more often than not, along for the ride with her. She'd gain sympathetic or sometime judging glares from fellow students, as if she were some kind of poor teenager trying to scrape by and earn a diploma. In reality, Toby had supported her with every ounce of his own energy and took the baby when he could, but when he couldn't, it was very hard to concentrate on neurodevelopmental disorders and the pros of occupational therapy with a crawling, crying, whining infant. Somehow, she'd made it through. Somehow, through rounds of shadowing and a year in residency, she'd become a behavioral psychologist and it remains, to this day, the most difficult thing she'd ever done. Childbirth is the second, and she's still amazed she'd managed it three times.

This is, without a doubt, the third.

She's sitting in the middle of her two younger children, jittering uncontrollably. Henry is occupied with a color by number picture of a castle, oblivious to the happenings around him, and Lilly is watching a dispute at one of the counters in front of them, her eyes wide. If asked what her least favorite place in the world is, Spencer could answer with Rosewood easily, no question. But coming in a very close second is the DMV and this is, unfortunately, where they're spending the afternoon. The day prior, Grace had turned sixteen, and between school and homework and dinner with her friends and family, she hadn't had the time to get her permit. So of course, this is exactly what she requests when Spencer picks her up from school the next day and her mother begrudgingly agrees. Now, she crosses and uncrosses her legs, drums her fingers on her knee and taps her foots against the ground, nerves abound. It isn't that Spencer's afraid she'll fail; she'd read the guidebook cover to cover and taken numerous practice exams online. It's the thought of what comes next when Grace passes that terrifies the living hell out of her.

Lilly presses closer to her mother to ask quietly, "Mom, why are people so angry here?"

"The DMV is where dreams go to die, Lil," Spencer jokes and her daughter smiles just slightly. "There's something about this place that makes everyone who sets foot in it very, very miserable."

"It's probably because they don't have any candy," Henry decides matter-of-factly. "All boring places need to have candy to make people happy. Like grocery stores. And banks, too."

Spencer smirks as Lilly points out, "Here comes Grace. Is she happy or sad? I can't tell."

Spencer holds her breath as her oldest child saunters towards them, her face deceptively neutral. But she simply cannot keep the grin from splitting her face as she finally reaches them, gloating, "I passed! And I got every question right. Eat that Vivian and wash it down with a big, tall glass of _suck it_."

"Grace," Spencer rolls her eyes as her younger two embrace their sister in a form of congratulations.

"What?" She shrugs innocently. "It's not like she didn't have it coming. She got _three_ wrong and she's all like, 'Oh, it's a _really_ hard test and not many people get a perfect score.' Well I did, Viv. Nice try!"

"I'm very proud of you," Spencer tells her, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. "Congratulations. But can you lay off your cousin, please?"

"I'll lay off when she does," Grace replies. "Now I have to pass my road test on the first try or I'll never hear the end of it."

"You can do it, Grace," Henry offers his encouragement. "You're better at driving than Vivian is."

"Thank you, Henry," Grace grins. "For that, you get to sit in the front seat _and_ pick the radio station."

Henry pumps his fist in the air. " _Yes!_ "

"Oh, now you've got Henry on your side, too?" Spencer sighs, exasperated. Turning to her son, she says, "Hen, you know you're too young to sit in the front seat and your sister's never actually gotten behind the wheel of a car before, right?"

"Yes," Henry shrugs. "So?"

"And you know that Vivian is your cousin and she loves you," Spencer continues. "And you love her."

Henry hesitates before adding, "She always treats me like I'm a baby. I'm _not_ a baby!"

"And you," Spencer continues, now facing her eldest. "You need to stop worrying so much about what's going on with Vivian and focus on yourself. You have twelve weeks of driver's education and a road test to complete before you can start thinking about who sits in the front seat or chooses the music."

Grace bites her lip, asking, "You're going to be doing both of those things, aren't you?"

"You bet I am," Spencer replies, a hint of a smile on her face. "Someone's got to teach you to drive."

"Ugh, this is going to be great," Grace says, buttoning her coat as they head out of the building and towards the family SUV. "Can you just picture it? Now I can drive to drama rehearsal and class council! Ooh, and I'm thinking for like a summer trip, maybe we can go to the beach! Or California! And I can drive part of the way!"

"Okay, slow down," Spencer says, chuckling. "Why don't we focus on getting out of the parking lot before we start planning cross-country road trips, alright?"

Grace's eyes widen. "I get to drive home?"

"Do you want to?"

She launches herself into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly and exclaiming, "Mom, you're the _best!_ "

At this, Spencer de-stresses just a little. After all, at sixteen, hugs from her eldest daughter are few and far between, and she'll take what she can get, especially when Grace offers one willingly. They climb into the car and Grace gets behind the wheel, her excitement and apprehension mixing with adrenaline, as the rest of her family settles in with her. After fastening her seatbelt, she turns the key in the ignition and says, "Alright, let's ride!"

"Wait," Spencer immediately halts her. "You have to adjust your mirrors. You're a bit shorter than me and they're at my eye level, not yours."

"Right," She shakes her head as though she'd known this already and reaches for the rearview mirror. "Can I raise the seat?"

"If you need to," Spencer nods. "There's a lever on the left side of your seat."

When she's all settled, she once again announces, "Alright, here we go!"

"Okay, check your mirrors," Spencer instructs. "Then put the car in reverse and slowly back out of the spot. When you've cleared the cars beside you, you can turn the wheel to the right to straighten yourself out."

Grace nods and shifts the gear into reverse, but they remain idle. She asks, "Okay, why aren't we moving?"

Spencer smirks. "You have to step on the pedal."

"Which one?"

"Oh my god," Spencer sighs and Grace immediately grows defensive.

"Well that was never on the test!" She shrieks. "I can tell you who gets the right of way in a four way stop and what to do at a flashing red light, but which one is the gas and which is the brake?"

"The right one, Grace," Spencer replies and all the mounting stress is giving her a headache. "The right one is the gas. The left one is the brake. Step on the gas gently and- gently! _Gently!_ "

The SUV goes careening backwards and Grace cranks the wheel to the right, sending her siblings sideways. Henry shares a look of terror with Lilly before whispering, "Are you scared?"

Lilly's eyes are wide and she considers the question before quickly shaking head. Henry's voice betrays him when he replies, "Yeah, me either."

"That was way too much speed," Spencer scolds immediately. "You're lucky you didn't hit anyone."

"Your car has too much power!" Grace complains instead. "I didn't even step on it that hard!"

"It's okay, just…" She inhales a deep breath and tells her, "Put the car in drive and let's keep going."

She does as she's told, but uses just as much force, so they're easily doing ten, maybe fifteen, over the speed limit. With equal strength, Grace slams on the brakes at a stop sign and the power of her stop bounces Lilly and Henry's skulls off the backs of their seats. Lilly rubs the back of her head and asks Henry, "Can I change my answer?"

"Grace, you're going to _kill_ my car if you keep driving like this," Spencer tells her. "You don't need that much force. You don't have to hit the pedals that hard! A little goes a long way!"

"I don't know how to drive! I barely even know how to turn the blinkers on!" She shouts back. " _You're_ supposed to be teaching me and all you're doing is yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling at you. I'm just trying to tell you-"

"You just keep saying what I'm doing wrong!"

"How else are you supposed to learn?"

"You're not helping me!"

A horn sounds from behind them and Grace, in frustration, asks, "What the hell are they beeping at?"

"Watch your language, first of all," Her mother chastises. "And they're beeping at you because we've been sitting here for a few minutes. Go. It's okay."

She speeds forward, towards home, in a stony silence and there's so much angst and pressure and fear on her face that it momentarily distracts Spencer. She knows exactly how her daughter feels; they're very much the same and this means they react to stress in similar ways. Trying to keep her voice even, Spencer says, "Look, we've got one more light until we're home just… _slow down_ , okay?"

"I'm trying," Grace replies and she's got a death grip on the steering wheel. "Is it this one?"

"No, it's the next light and it's green right now, but it might be red by the time we get there," Spencer says and sure enough, in seconds, the harsh amber fades to red. "That's called a stale green light. Always keep a foot over the brake when you see one of those, just in case."

Grace nods quickly and asks, "Can I make a right on red?"

Spencer hesitates before complying. "Yes, but-"

Before she can get her instructions out, Grace whizzes right through the intersection, nearly taking the turn into their neighborhood on two wheels. Adrenaline races through Spencer's veins and she can't help herself but shout, " _Grace!_ You can't do that!"

"Can't do what?" She argues back. "You literally _just_ told me I could take the right!"

"Yes, but you have to _stop_ first!" Spencer replies. "You can't just go! It isn't a green light!"

"You didn't tell me that! How was I supposed to know?"

"I didn't get a chance to. I'm telling you now," Spencer sighs. "Look, you can make a right on red, but you have to come to a complete stop and make sure no one is coming from the other direction, first."

"What good is it, now?" Grace shrieks. "You have to tell me this _before_ I do it! Come on, Mom! I don't know what I'm doing!"

"I know. That's why I'm trying to teach you!"

"Well, you're not doing a good job!"

And then, there is silence. Grace pulls into the driveway, shifts the car into park and turns off the ignition, not even bothering to take the keys with her. She steps out of the car and slams the door behind her, storming into the house. Quietly, the other three follow, Spencer feeling like an incredible failure, and when they enter, Toby's waiting in the kitchen, putting dinner on the table. He grins in greeting and upon the sight of Grace, he asks, "Hey! So? Did you pass?"

" _Ugh!_ " She groans in response and stomps up the stairs to her bedroom, the door banging shut behind her.

Toby then turns towards the rest of his family and asks, "What's up with her? She didn't pass?"

"Oh, she passed," Spencer sighs. "She also drove home."

He nods his understanding. "And it didn't go well?"

Spencer scoffs and turns to her younger children, asking, "Guys, did it go well?"

Lilly's pale as a sheet and her eyes are still wide as saucers. "No."

"Dad," Henry says gravely. "I thought we were gonna die."

Toby shakes his head. "Okay, but it was her first time. I'm sure you're exaggerating just a little."

"Not even in the slightest," Spencer replies. "Are we having pasta?"

"Yes."

"Good," She says. "Then I'm breaking out the wine. I earned it."

Toby chuckles and instructs, "Lil, Hen, go wash your hands and get your sister. Dinner will be ready in five."

They drop their school things off at the foot of the stairs and head in the direction of opposite bathrooms. Spencer's already uncorking a bottle of Riesling when Toby steps closer, asking, "Do you need a hug?"

"I need alcohol," She replies instead and then sighs and melts into his embrace. "But I guess I won't say no to a hug."

His arms come around her as he kisses her crown. "It was only hard now because it was her first time behind the wheel. It'll get better when she has more practice."

Spencer frowns and murmurs, "She said I was a bad teacher."

He pulls away to look her in the eye. "What?"

"We kind of got into an argument. I told her I was just trying to teach her and she said I wasn't doing good job," Spencer sighs. "Look, I don't know if I can do this. I almost had a heart attack today. This is _so_ not good for my anxiety."

"I know, but we have to teach her somehow," Toby says. "And Lilly and Henry too, eventually."

"Stop," She begs him. "I can't even think about that right now."

"Look, how about if I take her out?" Toby suggests. "Tomorrow's Saturday. I'll take her around the neighborhood so she gets a little bit of practice and then, maybe, if she feels a little more comfortable behind the wheel, she won't be so… _You_ about it."

"Me?" Spencer implores. "And by that you mean…?"

"There's a reason she's my mini-Spencer," Toby explains. "You both react to stress and fear in the same way. You panic, you lash out, you say things you don't mean. I think maybe she needs a bit of a gentler approach because driving is not something you can just pick up. It's not something you can be automatically good at. And since you've always had an issue with things like that, I'm guessing she does too. Let me try. Because, babe, I love you and you're good at many, many things, but handling stress well isn't one of them."

She sighs and knows he's right. "Fine. Thank you."

He leans in to kiss her and she meets him halfway. They're allowed a few moments of peace before Henry and Lilly return, the former grimacing and saying, "You guys kiss each other too much."

"I think it's nice," Lilly puts in and Spencer smiles at her, reaching to smooth her soft chestnut hair.

"That's what people do when they're in love, Hen." Toby tells his son. "They kiss."

Henry shakes his head, sitting down at his designated spot at the family table. "Love is gross."

Smirking, Spencer can't help but notice one member of their family is noticeably absent. "Where's Grace?"

"Oh, she said she's not hungry," Henry shrugs and reaches for a napkin.

Concerned, Spencer turns to her younger daughter, asking, "Lil?"

Lilly nods slowly and says, "She's upset."

Toby shares a look with his wife before saying, "I'll go talk to her."

"No, I should," Spencer insists. "I've got to work on being gentler, right?"

He gives her a sad sort of smile before conceding and asking, "Do you want us to wait for you?"

It seems futile when they realize Lilly's already munching on a piece of bread and Henry's dripping spaghetti sauce down his shirt. She shakes her head anyway. "That's okay. We'll catch up."

She ascends the stairs and heads to the bedroom furthest down the hall. The door is shut tight and with a deep breath, she knocks sharply upon it. Spencer's not waiting for a response and she's sure she wouldn't get one if she was, so instead, she pushes the door open and finds her daughter transcribing something onto a sheet of paper, glancing every so often at a world history textbook she's balancing on her left leg. Her backpack is open and spilling its contents onto the floor of her bedroom- a script from the upcoming play she's starring in, a Vera Bradley lunchbox, an AP textbook, tennis shoes- and not for the first time, Spencer wonders where her little girl has gone. Grace exhales a sigh but her pen does not stop running across the sheet of paper and she doesn't look up.

"I'm not hungry."

"So I've heard," Spencer nods, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of her bed. "But I know you have lunch at eleven a.m. so when do you think you might be hungry?"

"I don't know," Grace shoots back. "Maybe when Dad learns to cook something other than spaghetti?"

"Grace."

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "What do you want me to say? I have a lot of work to do. I'm behind in world history and I have that huge AP calc test on Monday and Latin is a stupid, dead language and I don't know _why_ you made me take it."

"I didn't make you take anything," Spencer says calmly. "You told me you wanted it for help on your SATs, remember?"

"Whatever," Grace says. "I have to study now so I can get ready for my future of getting a degree online since I'm never going to be able to drive anywhere."

"Grace, it was your first try," Spencer tells her. "And honestly, it wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't that bad?" Grace disagrees, her deep blue eyes finally meeting her mother's. "You yelled at me the entire time!"

"I know. And I shouldn't have." Spencer says. "I'm really sorry. You were excited to get behind the wheel and I ruined it for you."

"It's fine," She crosses her arms. "I thought it was going to be fun, but it actually totally sucks."

"It gets better, I promise," Spencer assures her. "Look… Driving isn't a game. It's really serious and if you do something wrong… You could hurt somebody. I guess I was just scared and nervous and stressed and I took it out on you. And I shouldn't have."

Grace shrugs. "I did the same thing."

"I know you did," Spencer says. "Dad seems to think you and I are the same person. And if he's right, then… God help you, Grace, because you don't want to be like me."

"Why not?" Grace asks, leaning forward a bit, intrigued. "Your life isn't that bad."

"Yeah, _now_ ," Spencer nods. "But you should've seen me when I was your age. I was a mess. I was stressed and anxious all the time and everything I did, I tried to be the _best_ at. But you can't be the best at everything and especially not on your first try. It took me way too long to learn that. I'm hoping it won't, for you."

Grace takes this to heart and then asks, frowning, "I have to get back out there again, don't I?"

"You do," Spencer nods. "But I'll understand if you don't want to drive with me anymore. You and I… We kind of clash, don't we?"

"Opposites attract, same repel, Mom," Grace smiles. "It's basic science."

Spencer smiles, too. "Dad's already planning on taking you around the neighborhood tomorrow. Maybe you'll like his methods of teaching better than mine."

"I can't guarantee that," Grace tells her. "But it's worth a shot."

Her mother then asks, "Will you come have dinner now?"

"Fine," Grace gives in, pushing her homework aside. "But we really need to teach Dad to make something other than spaghetti. It's the third time this week."

"Grace, your father is good at many, many things," Spencer grins. "But cooking is not one of them."

* * *

Toby awakens on Saturday morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon emanating from the kitchen. It's pancake day; he should've known. Sitting and stretching, he's instantly put into a good mood as he pulls on a t-shirt and slips out of bed. That is, until he remembers what's on schedule for him and his oldest daughter today. Saturdays are good, usually; they're a chance to catch up with the rest of his family members, whom he sees so little of during the week as school and all of their extracurricular activities occupy their minds. But it's January tenth and it's cold and snowy and he has to teach his daughter how to successfully and safely maneuver a motor vehicle today. He's looking forward to this Saturday just a little bit less.

When he arrives in the kitchen, Spencer's sipping a steaming mug of coffee from one hand and flipping a couple pancakes on a griddle with the other. Lilly's at the counter, chewing on a piece of bacon, and Henry and Grace are nowhere to be seen. It always feels strange when their family isn't all together, even for simple things like mealtimes, and he finds himself wondering what it would be like if they only had one child. He supposes that was their reality for five and a half years, nearly six, and then they expanded and never looked back. It was easier, sure, but duller, emptier, incomplete, and he'd take the difficulties of conflicting schedules and multiple children any day over feeling like that.

Lilly beams at the sight of him and says, "Good morning, Daddy."

He grins at her, the only one to still call him that, and kisses her cheek, ruffles her hair. "Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

She nods and dips a bit of her pancake into some syrup. "Good luck today."

"Thanks, babe. I might need it," He replies and greets his wife with a kiss, next. "Good morning."

"Morning yourself," She smiles. "I made coffee."

"Don't you always?" He teases and reaches for the pot, pouring himself a cup. "I'm really proud of you, you know. It's like a tenth as strong as what it used to be. You're really cutting back."

"Hey, I've got kids now," Spencer grins. "I've got to take it easy."

He drinks his slowly, relishing the way the caffeine instantly begins to take effect. After a beat, he wonders, "Just two this morning? Where's one and three?"

Spencer smirks. "Henry was still passed out, last time I checked. Grace already ate and she's in the garage."

"Doing what?"

"Learning everything she can about the car," Spencer replies. "I honestly think she's taking notes."

He has to see this for himself. Crossing into the laundry room, Toby pulls open the door leading into the garage and sure enough, Grace is sitting in the passenger seat of the family SUV in her pajamas, a notebook in hand. Toby chuckles just a bit and calls to her, "Grace?"

She glances up, startled. "Dad. I didn't see you there."

"It's freezing out here," He says. "What are you doing?"

"Yesterday, I didn't even know which _pedal_ to step on, can you believe it?" She shakes her head. "So embarrassing. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"I see," Toby nods. "And you think this is going to help you?"

"Well yeah," She says as though it's obvious and turns her notebook towards him. Underneath a list of bullet points, she's diagrammed a beautifully drawn car, fully labeled. "I just have one question. What does the S stand for?"

"What S?"

"The one on the gear shift," She asks. "Park, Reverse, Neutral, Drive and… S. What's the S for?"

"Oh. It's for Sport or Second Gear," Toby explains. "It gives you more power and less fuel efficiency, basically. It's used in racing or for going up and down steep hills. You'll never use it."

"Oh," She shivers. "Okay."

"Can you come inside now?" Toby asks. "There's ice on your slippers."

"One sec," Grace tells him. "I have to learn how to pump gas."

"Open the door, stick the pump in and it clicks when it's done," Toby says. "Come on, Grace. It's freezing."

She does as he's asked and he shuts the door behind her. When they both return to the kitchen, Henry's awake and yawning over a plate of pancakes and Spencer offers Toby a plate, too. "Are you going to eat now?"

"Yes," He nods. "Just making sure your daughter doesn't get hypothermia."

"It's not _that_ bad," Grace says. "I'll be in my room. Come get me when you're ready to go."

Toby's not sure he'll ever be ready for this. He tries to remember what it was like learning to drive himself, but it was so uneventful, it's only coming back to him in pieces. He'd mainly learned in driver's education classes; his father had taken him out on the open road only twice. Once, the day after he'd gotten his permit and he'd hit the mailbox backing out of their driveway, and the second time, the day of his road test, just to make sure he'd improved. Toby sighs upon this realization and finishes his breakfast, heading back upstairs to get dressed and vowing to give Grace as much attention as she needs in order to become a good driver. He will not allow his daughter to feel as alone as he had.

They're in the car, now, idling in the driveway, and Grace has already clammed up quite a bit. He knows that she, very much like her mother, hates making mistakes, but learning is trial and error and he's not sure how to explain this to her without bruising her ego. He clears his throat from the passenger seat and says, calmly, "You can take car out of park and slowly back out of the driveway. Make sure you check your mirrors, okay?"

Grace nods quickly and very, very carefully, switches gears. They're moving at a slow crawl down the driveway and she checks her rearview mirror three times before turning the wheel to the left. "Where am I going now?"

"Just around the neighborhood," Toby tells her. "I just want you to get a feel for handling the car. I think that once you feel more comfortable behind the wheel, maybe you won't freak out."

"I didn't freak out yesterday," Grace defends herself. "Mom did and that made _me_ freak out."

"Okay," He says, agreeing to disagree. "Let's just get down the street and we'll take it from there."

The speed limit in their neighborhood is thirty. Grace is doing fifteen, maybe. There's a couple from down the road walking their dog and pushing a stroller and Toby's pretty sure they're going to pass him and Grace any second now. He understands being cautious, but this tortoise-like speed at which Grace is driving is a far cry from the speed demon Spencer had made her out to be the night prior. She's also gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are turning white and she's sitting so close to the wheel, her back as straight as an arrow. If he's going to get her to become more comfortable with driving, he's going to need to maker her comfortable, period.

"Hey, Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"Relax," He urges her. "Lean back against the seat. Loosen your grip a little on the steering wheel. You're not racing through a hurricane. It's okay to relax a bit."

She does, but only slightly. "Okay. But how's my driving?"

Toby hesitates before admitting, "You could go a little faster."

"But Mom said-"

"Yeah, you can't do eighty," Toby says. "But you also shouldn't do fifteen."

Grace sighs and steps on the gas just a bit, just in time to make a right turn down the adjacent street. He probably should have told her to slow down on turns; they end up thrown against the door as she takes it on full speed. And he definitely should have told her _how_ make a turn; if there had been a car there, she easily would have collided with it, head on. Toby's beginning to see where Spencer's coming from, now. This is the most stressful experience he's had in a very, very long time. He tries to think of other things he's taught her over the course of her lifetime- how to ride a bike, how to tie her shoes, how to read and write- and he'd gladly take all of those all over again, all at once, than tackle this. He's been driving for many years and it's become second nature to him. Teaching someone to drive is not as easy as he once thought.

She drifts over into the other lane just a bit and Toby has to fight the urge to yank the wheel back in the right direction. She corrects this and then makes a rolling stop and a wide left turn back onto their street. Toby bites his tongue. _She's learning_ , he repeats over and over in his head, like a mantra. _She's learning, she's learning, she's learning_. There's a trash bin at the end of their driveway, ready and waiting to be picked up and emptied, and as Grace rounds the corner onto the asphalt, she clips the side of the receptacle. Toby winces as she puts the car in park and hopes for the best. Likely, it didn't leave a mark on anything but her ego.

Nervously, she turns to her father and asks, "So? How did I do?"

Toby's quite a moment before nodding. "Not bad, honey. Really."

"Really?" Grace probes, skeptical. "Because you didn't say anything the entire time."

"I was focusing on the road," He tells her. "But really, Grace, with more practice, you'll be fine."

"So I'm not now?" She crosses her arms and he sighs.

"I didn't _say_ that. I said-"

"No, you didn't say _anything_ ," She frowns irritably and throws the car door open, climbing out and stalking towards the house.

Toby exhales heavily. Teenagers are going to be the death of him. He's following behind and enters the house just as he hears Spencer ask, "How did it go?"

"Why don't you ask Dad?" Grace exclaims. "He didn't talk to me. Maybe he'll talk to you."

The pattern's the same; she stomps up the stairs in irritation and her bedroom door crashes shut behind her. They're getting used to this by now. Spencer turns to her husband for explanation. "You didn't talk to her?"

"I didn't know what to say! Teaching to someone to drive is harder than I expected," He tells her. "God. That was the worst thing I've done. I don't want to do that again."

Spencer laughs just a bit. "We have to, though. Who else is going to teach her?"

"The wonderful, albeit slightly insane, people of Bell's Driving School."

"Okay, but we have to fine-tune her," Spencer says. "It sucks. I know it does. But we better get used to it now, right? Before long, they'll all be driving."

"Let's not go there," Toby shakes his head. "I'm still trying to get over this. It was terrible."

"But she's going to get better," Spencer points out. "Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yeah," He sighs. "And it's true."

"Okay then," Spencer says. "She starts driver's ed next week and her road test is in March. She has plenty of time and I bet she'll pass. Hell, I did, and I had the worst teacher in the world."

Toby nods understandingly. "Mr. Owens?"

"No, my Dad," Spencer shudders. "He spent the entire time screaming at me and I thought I was going to crash the car or have a heart attack and die from being so stressed. All he ever did was yell at me and tell me what I did wrong. He never gave me any positive feedback!"

"I hear that," Toby agrees. "My Dad sat in the car next to me and said absolutely nothing. He was the worst person to drive with because I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. He liked to be in control and when he had to relinquish it, it came with cold, hard silence."

Spencer shoots him a sympathetic look and then her eyes widen. "Oh my God. _Oh my God!_ "

"What?"

"We're our Dads," Spencer says. "Everything you just described? That's what you did to Grace today! And I yelled at her yesterday… Oh my God, I've tried so hard not to be my Mom. I didn't see this coming."

Toby's eyes are wide. "This is my worst nightmare."

"How do we fix it?"

"We have to take her out again," Toby suggests. "Guide her, praise her for things she does right and offer suggestions on how to improve. It's the only way."

"You forgot something," She says and when glances questioningly at her, Spencer adds, "Apologize for being terrible parents."

Toby frowns. "We aren't terrible parents. Just terrible teachers. But can you blame us? These are the ways we learned, so of _course_ we'd try to teach that way. It's all we know."

"God, how are you still so good at that?" Spencer wonders, throwing her arms around him and attaching their lips.

"Good at what?" He asks in between kisses.

"Making me feel better," Spencer replies. "It's been years. Your powers should've worn off by now."

Chuckling, Toby says, "What can I say? One of my many talents."

* * *

Twelve weeks of driver's education fly by and soon, Grace is ready to take her road test. She'd improved greatly over the past few weeks, learned how to control her speed and take safe left and right turns, and through the methods of her driving instructor as well as her parents' support and guidance, she'd really become a well-rounded driver. Sure, she isn't perfect; she's still new to this, after all. But she wakes up the morning of her road test in good spirits and Spencer offers to take her and waits, nervously, in the office while her daughter is out there, hopefully passing with flying colors. After about ten or so minutes, Spencer sees the grey sedan pull back into the spot expertly and she can't wait any longer. She pushes open the door and there's a look on Grace's face she can't read. She doesn't say anything and instead pulls open the passenger door to her mother's SUV. Spencer follows her lead and they sit in the car in silence for a long time before the truth finally comes out.

"I failed."

Spencer's eyes widen even though she'd suspected this all along. "You did?"

Grace nods solemnly, not meeting her mother's searching gaze, and Spencer says, "I'm sorry. But it's okay, honey. Not everyone passes on their first try."

"Did you?"

Spencer sighs but finds herself nodding. "Yeah."

"I did everything right," Grace frowns. "They failed me for something totally stupid."

"Like what?"

"We came to a four-way stop and there was already a car stopped on my right side, which meant they had the right of way," Grace explains, her eyes still trained on her lap. "But they saw I was with a driving instructor, so they waved me on. I waved them on instead, because they still had the right of way, I remembered, but they insisted, so… I went. And he said I shouldn't have done that and asked me to turn back to the station, that the test was over and… I failed."

"Oh, that's not your fault," Spencer insists. "In the real world, if someone waves you on, you can just go. It's alright."

"That's what I thought, but when I did it…" Grace says. "God, this is _so_ embarrassing. Everyone knew I was taking my road test today and now _everyone_ is going to ask me if I passed and I'm going to have to say no. And Vivian is _never_ going to let me live it down. She already thinks she's so much better than me and now I'm just giving her ammunition."

"Grace, it's okay," Spencer says. "Look, we'll schedule you another road test in a few weeks and you'll pass. I know you will."

Finally, her pale cerulean eyes meet her mother's, sorrowful. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I believe in you," Spencer professes. "I am so, so proud of you and of everything you've done. And you don't have to feel embarrassed; it doesn't matter to me that you failed. You just need to know that, in my eyes, you can _never_ fail."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she asks, "Really?"

"Really," Spencer insists.

"Not even if I ended up barefoot and pregnant and living out of your basement breeding squirrels?" She asks cheekily and Spencer laughs.

"There's my Gracie," She grins. "And no, not even then."

Spencer reaches across the center console and pulls her daughter in for a hug, which Grace returns eagerly. Her entire childhood, failure had never been an option. She was expected to give one hundred and ten percent in everything she did, to be poised and prim and proper, to be, in a word, perfect. And from the moment she'd first discovered how terribly isolating and limiting and just so very _wrong_ this was, she'd vowed to never, ever subject her own children to such a structure. She knows Grace is the most like her and this means she puts an enormous amount of pressure on herself to be the best that she can be. But luckily for Grace, she also knows she has parents who will love and support her unconditionally, just like any child should. Spencer hadn't known this to be true as a child, but this only makes her all the more eager to prove it to her own.

"I love you," Spencer tells her. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know," Grace nods. "I love you, too."

"Let's go home, okay?" Spencer suggests. "We can break the news to your father and siblings together."

It's Lilly who cries when Grace reluctantly tells her awaiting family the results of her road test and as usual, it tugs at Spencer's heartstrings. Her middle child loves so fiercely and feels others' pain so strongly that it almost always leaves her tears. Sensitive, humble and timid, Lilly would of course hurt for her sister almost as much as Grace hurts for herself, and she'd be much more upfront about it. Spencer reaches for her younger daughter, wipes away the falling tears and tucks her protectively into her side. If more children were more like her precious Lilly, the future would be a brighter, less painful place. Henry frowns and offers Grace a hug and then asks if she needs a joke to make her feel better. She agrees and is laughing moments later at something her younger brother had made up on the spot.

"Well, maybe you're more like me than we originally thought," Toby then says. "I failed my first road test, too."

Grace glances up, a look of hope in her eyes. "You did?"

"Yeah," Toby nods. "I hit a parked car trying to parallel park."

Grace gasps. "No you didn't!"

"I did," He chuckles. "That was pretty much an instant fail."

"Oh my God," Grace shakes her head. "Did you do damage?"

"Three hundred dollars-worth," Toby says. "Not my finest moment."

But Grace is grinning from ear to ear and Spencer suspects this had been her husband's plan all along. "That's hilarious."

"Yeah, so don't beat yourself up too much, Grace," Toby tells her. "You're a regular Cavanaugh after all."

"Good," Grace giggles and then her eyes widen at what she's said. Turning to her mother, she adds, "Mom, I didn't mean-"

"No, honey, it's okay," Spencer assures her, rubbing Lilly's back and grinning at Henry's antics. Her eyes meet Toby's from across the room and she's at peace. "Believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way."


	8. i will keep you safe and never go away

**Hello friends! Here's this chapter. I don't really know where the heck it came from. It isn't my favorite. But regardless, thank you SO much for continuing to read and for the reviews you've given me on the previous chapter! It really does mean so much to me, you have no idea. Hopefully you won't dislike this one as much as I do (I'm literally my worst critic, just ignore me) and I hope you have a wonderful holiday weekend! :D**

 **This chapter title comes from "Welcome to the World" by Nicolette Larson. Have a good night!**

* * *

i will keep you safe and never go away

She lasts a total of three days without Grace before reaching her breaking point.

She spends the entire three days telling herself it's for their own good, that it's nothing personal and her daughter understands, that her immune system is compromised because her body's a little busy, you know, _growing another human_ , but in the end, resistance is futile. Spencer knows she can't take any over the counter remedies should she contract the nasty cold Grace's gotten, but she just can't take being isolated from her daughter any longer. Her pregnancy hormones are through the roof and she misses her six-year-old terribly, even if she's just been in the next room all along. By the end of the day, they're snuggling on the couch together, thick as thieves. Toby teases her for her lack of faith in him ("You think I can't take care of our kid when she's sick? Babe, I've _got_ this.") and teases her for inability to stay away ("Come on, think of it as a little rest period or a mini vacation from Hurricane Grace.") before telling her she'll likely be sick within twenty-four hours. Spencer swats at him but her depth perception is all wrong at seven and a half months pregnant and believes, whole heartedly, that it won't happen that quickly.

She's wrong.

Waking up on the morning of May 15th, Spencer knows something's _off_. She doesn't have a fever, like Grace does, and she isn't hacking up a lung, her nose running like a faucet, as Grace is, but she certainly doesn't feel well. She's tired and anxious and her stomach pitches and rolls and she can't tell if it's nerves, illness or the baby. Grace's fever breaks and instead of lying lethargically on the sofa with a Disney movie of choice, today she convinces her worn out parents to let her have a Popsicle for breakfast ("My throat is still super scratchy!") and then proceeds to wiggle her front tooth endlessly in hopes of it finally popping loose. So far, she is unsuccessful.

"Just _come out_ already!" Grace whines impatiently, her words altered by the tiny fist in her mouth.

"I have a feeling that's what you'll be saying in a few weeks," Toby jokes to his wife, who grimaces in response.

"No way. I'm not due till the end of June. Too early," She disagrees and then sits on the couch beside her daughter. "Babe, maybe your tooth isn't ready yet."

"It's ready," Grace disagrees and bends it back so far, Spencer pulls a disgusted face. "Look how far I can push it!"

"That's disgusting. Get your fingers out of your mouth."

"But _Mommy!_ "

"Grace, I can just pull it for you," Toby offers. "Two seconds and then it's done."

Her eyes widen and she claps both hands over her mouth, shaking her head. Toby shrugs. "I tried."

"Just let Daddy pull it," Spencer tries again. "I don't want to watch you play with it anymore."

"No way," Grace disagrees. "That'll hurt."

"Gracie, would I ever hurt you?" Toby asks her and Grace frowns and shakes her head. "Exactly. If it's as loose as you say it is, it won't even hurt."

Grace considers this before asking, "Will you take the other front one too?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"Because I'd look really silly with only _one_ front tooth."

"Grace," Toby laughs. "You've got to wait until that one's ready to come out."

She smiles and says, "I'll work on that one, then."

Spencer shivers and pulls her sweatshirt more firmly around her shoulders. It's mid May and she shouldn't be this cold; she's definitely coming down with whatever's plaguing her daughter. Toby reaches for the thermometer and gestures for Grace to open her mouth. Moments later it beeps and he reads the results aloud, saying, "98.4. Hate to break it to you, babe, but you're going back to school tomorrow."

"Good," Grace says. "I have a lot of work to do on my diorama. It's space week, you know. I need to finish painting Pluto!"

"Ew, Gracie," Spencer recoils a moment later, nodding towards the thermometer in Toby's hands, bathed in a small sheen of blood. "I think your lip is bleeding. Go get a tissue."

"Wait, no," Grace shakes her head and when she opens her mouth, there's a hole where her front tooth used to be. " _Ew!_ Where did my tooth go?"

"It's right here," Toby replies, handing her a tissue, a grin on his face. "I pulled it and you didn't even notice."

"It didn't hurt," Grace says, glancing from the tiny tooth in her hand to her father's cheery visage. "You tricked me!"

"How else was I supposed to get you to stop playing with that thing?" Toby asks. "Now you don't have to worry about it."

She considers this a moment before pressing a tissue to her bleeding gums and beginning to wiggle the one beside it. Toby sighs. "Grace, what _now_?"

"I can't leave the other one in there," She insists. "I just look weird."

Toby glances at his wife, who chuckles and shrugs. "She's a perfectionist."

He shakes his head. "She's _you_."

Toby cooks dinner that night because Spencer can't even be in the same room as food without wanting to vomit. Grace busts out her second front tooth on a carrot and then cries three times before bed; once when it pops out, because it hadn't been ready and it had hurt fairly badly, once when she rinses the blood from her mouth, thinking she's losing so much she'll surely die, and once when she brushes her teeth for the first time and sees her reflection, a gaping hole where two baby teeth used to be. She isn't a fan of her mouth like this and cries to her parents that she looks like a freshly carved pumpkin. Luckily, it only takes mere minutes to calm her and she tucks away both teeth beneath her pillow, dreaming about a visit from the tooth fairy.

It's been hours and Spencer still feels like complete shit. She can't quite place this feeling, honestly. She'd thought, at first, she was coming down with the cold Grace had brought home from school, but the incubation period has passed and she has yet to show a single symptom. Instead, it's her stomach that's bothering her and the baby hasn't moved quite as much today as he or she usually does and this is already cause for alarm. She feels out of sorts, like someone's shifted her center of gravity, and she feels sick, as though just the mere idea of eating _anything_ will send her running for the porcelain throne. Her back aches and it's hard to breathe and she's just _so uncomfortable_ ; something she hadn't expected to feel for another month yet. Needless to say, she's been unpleasantly surprised.

Toby enters their bedroom then with a cup of tea and she loves him so much, she cannot contain herself. "Thank you so much. You are a godsend."

"I am not," He waves this off and hands it to her, climbing into bed beside her. "You haven't eaten anything all day and that isn't good for you or the little one. But you drank a lot of tea when you were getting sick back in the first trimester. I remember that, anyway."

She brings the liquid closer, inhaling the comforting scent. "No honey, right?"

"Honey makes you puke," Toby says. "I remember that, too."

She smirks. "You know pregnant me so well."

"I try," He shrugs and then asks, "So what's up? Is it you or is it the little jumping bean?"

"Jumping bean hasn't been so jumpy today," Spencer tells him, sipping at her tea and shifting uncomfortably. "A few punches and kicks here and there, but… He or she's been quiet. And I just feel like…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Spencer sighs. "It's really hard to describe. I think I just need to sleep."

"If you can get comfortable," Toby says and Spencer has to give him that one. "Is there anything I can do for you? Seriously, name it. Do you want the bed? You can have the whole bed. I'll take the couch. I don't mind."

"I do," Spencer frowns. "How is that supposed to help me sleep?"

"I don't know," It's his turn to sigh. "In case you needed more room to stretch out, or something. I'll happily give it to you."

"I'll happily decline," Spencer tells him. "You'll take the couch? What, like we're separated? Arguing?"

He smirks. "You know it's not like that."

She shrugs. "Still. I can't sleep without you. You know this."

"That's true. I can't, either," Toby says and then pauses to ask, "Does that make us really codependent?"

"We _are_ codependent."

"That's unhealthy."

"Okay, but we're not the _bad_ codependent."

"Is there a _good_ codependent?"

She chuckles. "Okay, fine. We could use a _little_ separation. But I'm perfectly happy with the way we are now. Aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Toby tells her. "You know I'm just teasing you."

She drains the rest of her tea and struggles to get out of bed, heading for the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she returns, she informs her husband, "Just so you're aware, I'm a behavioral psychologist. And believe you me, I recognize codependency when I see it."

"Oh," Toby frowns. "We're still on this conversation?"

"Yes, because the last thing I want is for you to think our relationship is unhealthy."

"I never said it was!"

"Codependency is a one-sided relationship where one member encourages and fuels self-deprecating behavior in the other," Spencer explains in full therapist mode. "We do not do that."

"It was a joke. Please tell Dr. Hastings to go back to the office."

She rolls her eyes and climbs back into bed. "I'm just saying. You're the one who brought it up."

"Really wish I hadn't." Toby yawns. "We're super healthy. We talk about our problems and argue like an old married couple and have an active sex life despite the one and a half children we have. We're knocking this marriage thing out of the park."

"That's better," Spencer grins approvingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

* * *

That night, Spencer has a dream she's being attacked by sharks. She's swimming in crystal clear waters, somewhere tropical, somewhere palm trees sway and coconuts knock together, and she's doing lap after lap, backstroke and butterfly and breaststroke. Then, day turns to night almost instantly and the waters grow murky. She spots one fin and then two and then three, and they're all circling her with no possible means of escape. She smells her own blood before she sees it and then she feels the unimaginable pain, jagged teeth tearing into her flesh and searing pain lancing her insides. She wakes up gasping for breath and has a paralyzing feeling in her spine. She's going to be sick. Pushing back the covers, Spencer stands, breathing hard and sweating profusely, and realizes she isn't going to be sick. That awful, radiating pain is a contraction and her water's broken, slowly and steadily dripping down her leg.

It's too soon; that's the very first thought running through her mind. Her due date isn't for weeks and weeks and she can't have this baby yet. She won't. Another contraction rips through her and she doubles over, nearly collapsing on the floor as more amniotic fluid continues to gush freely from her. Gripping the bed sheets, she drinks in deep breaths in an attempt to take her mind off of the pain and when she can't take it anymore, she gasps out, "Toby… Toby."

He jolts awake like he's been electrocuted, ready for anything. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Are you okay?"

"My water broke… Or, is breaking," She tells him and it's an odd sensation, honestly. The last time, her doctor had done it for her, all at once, but now, it really just feels like she's wetting herself.

It takes just a moment for the information to register before his eyes widen. "Already? It's so early."

"I know," She hisses as the next contraction slices through her. "Something has to be wrong. It's not time yet. Something's wrong."

"Okay… Okay," He jumps out of bed and into action, already throwing clothes and shoes on. "Let me call someone to come stay with Grace."

"What time is it?"

"2:47."

"Who are you calling?"

"Someone. _Anyone_."

"Not anyone," Spencer breathes. "Don't leave her with my parents. If the fever ends up coming back, they'll still make her go to school."

"Okay, not your parents."

"Or _your_ parents," Spencer then adds. "I don't totally trust them."

"You don't trust them at all," Toby corrects her. "Don't worry. They're not even on the list."

"Or Melissa," She says. "She's a total germaphobe and even though Grace is on the upswing, Melissa will probably keep her in quarantine."

"Spencer, you can't be this picky about who babysits at three a.m.," Toby tells her. "We need to go to the hospital."

"I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable leaving my child with just anyone," Spencer sighs. "She's important to me."

"She's important to me too," Toby says as though this should have been obvious. "How about Jason? He's great with her and Grace adores him."

"Okay, just…" She exhales painfully and nods. "That's fine. We need to go. We just need to go."

"We're going, we're going. Let me just…" He trails off, his thought dying in the middle of the sentence. "Is the bag packed?"

"Bag's been packed for months," Spencer says. "Do you even know me?"

"Okay, okay," He waves off her sass. "Do you want to meet me in the car then? I'll get Jason situated when he gets here."

She nods but her face must read all the stress and fear she's feeling, for he pauses and asks, "What, Spence?"

She inhales a deep breath and shakes her head, saying, "It's too soon. Something's wrong."

A sympathetic look washes over Toby's face. He slips the phone into his pocket and reaches for her, bracing her on either side. "It's going to be okay. You don't know that something's wrong. I bet this happens all the time."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't," Toby says. "But I'm also not going to panic until we get to the hospital and they tell us what's going on."

"That makes one of us," Spencer tells him. "But you've also never panicked a day in your life."

"I can't," Toby tells her. "You panic enough for the both of us."

She smiles and then sobers a bit, admitting, "I'm kind of scared."

"I know," He nods. "But we'll get through this like we get through everything- together."

He's her lifeline; Spencer honestly doesn't know where she'd be or how she'd get through life's toughest struggles without him. Toby keeps her sane, keeps her grounded in reality, and keeps her from hitting rock bottom upon assuming the worst from every situation. She suffers through a few more painful contractions before heading to the car, passing a bleary-eyed, sleep-interrupted Jason on the way, and tries to focus on her breathing, on something calming and serene, instead of the fact that her baby is quite literally rearing his or her head six weeks before the original expected arrival date. It's at this time that she realizes Grace had been born a few weeks early too; just barely three weeks early so not quite as dramatic, but Spencer wonders if the problem is her. Is there something so terribly wrong with her that she can't keep a good enough place for her little ones to grow? It's this thought that plagues her mind as Toby settles into the driver's seat beside her and one look at her face tells him, she's sure, that she hadn't taken his advice.

"Spencer, you can't stress about this," He says as gently as he can. "Stress is bad for the baby."

"Yeah, so is coming six weeks early," She hisses through another contraction. "Just drive."

"Promise me you'll try and relax a bit?"

"Relax _how?_ "

"Just breathe."

"I am breathing. And _freaking_ out."

He says nothing more. At a red light, he lifts a hand off the steering wheel and offers it to her, and she squeezes so hard it turns his knuckles white. Upon arriving at the hospital, they're admitted to labor and delivery instantly and before long, Dr. Campbell greets them cheerfully, as though it isn't the middle of the night and they aren't here weeks in advance. "So, your little peanut decided to come a bit early, huh?"

"I'm not due until June 30th," Spencer insists. "I expected a variant of a couple of days, not weeks."

"Let's check it out and see what's going on," Dr. Campbell tells her, snapping on latex gloves. "But I can almost assure you everything's going to be fine. We deliver premature babies all day, everyday."

Toby leans a bit closer to his wife, saying, "What did I say? It's going to be fine."

Spencer shakes her head, replying, "She said _almost_."

"You're fully effaced and almost fully dilated so you're definitely having this baby this morning," The doctor announces a moment later and reaches for the ultrasound machine. "Now let's take a look at the little peanut and see what's going on in there."

"Do you think something's wrong?" Spencer has to ask because she's dying over here. Toby's silent beside her.

"I don't, honestly," Dr. Campbell tells her. "I am concerned that labor began this early, because I saw you earlier this week and everything looked perfectly fine with no indication that this was going to happen. And as far as I can see, baby does not seem to be in any distress."

She breathes out a sigh of relief. "Oh. Good."

"Your fluid levels are really, really low," Dr. Campbell then says. "But that's to be expected since your water broke about an hour ago. The placenta… Hang on. Let me get a better look at it."

She zooms in, clicks a bunch of buttons and navigates the camera around the baby. "Ah, placental abruption. We have a winner, folks."

"What is that?"

"It's when the placenta detaches from the uterine lining before it's supposed to," Dr. Campbell explains. "Yours is a very mild case; it's only detached at the top here, see? But basically when that happens, nutrients and oxygen stop their flow to baby, baby panics and hits the evac button. There's no preventing that."

"Why, though?" Spencer asks. "Why does it happen?"

Dr. Campbell shrugs. "It's just one of those things, Spencer. It happens sometimes."

"But it's not a danger to his or her health, is it?"

"It could be, if prolonged," Dr. Campbell says. "I'm going to go ahead and alert the NICU team so they'll be here when you deliver."

Toby asks, "The NICU?"

"The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit," Dr. Campbell explicates. "It sounds scary, I know, but since I don't know exactly how long your baby's gone without a sufficient nutrient and oxygen flow and since she's six weeks early, it's imperative that she receive full medical attention immediately after birth. On the screen, she seems fine; she's breathing and moving, her heart rate's good, and she's nice and low, but I just don't know where she's at, physically speaking."

Spencer's nodding slowly. "Okay. Okay that's… Okay."

"I know this is hardly the detail to focus on, right now," Toby puts in. "But I noticed… Just something you said… Are we having a girl?"

Dr. Campbell grins and nods. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise."

"No, that's okay," Toby shakes his head. "It was ruined last time, too. It's like tradition."

"Toby," Spencer shoots him a watery smile. "We're having another girl!"

"We're having another girl," Toby grins and bends to kiss her gleefully. In between kisses, he says, "I am so ridiculously outnumbered now."

Spencer grins, too, saying, "You love it."

"It's true. I do."

"Congratulations," Dr. Campbell beams. "It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours now. If I can get you anything for the pain-"

"No thank you," Spencer immediately disagrees. "I'll go au naturale, like last time."

"Okay," The doctor nods. "I'll be back to check on you in just a bit. Sit tight."

Labor only worsens and Spencer nearly breaks Toby's hand out of pain and fear. She groans in pain and Toby winces along with her, asking, "This is probably a long shot, but are you absolutely _sure_ you don't want the pain meds? I think you could use them."

"Do I have to go through my long winded rant about how bad the epidural is for me and for the baby?" Spencer replies, shooting him a look. "It might take the pain away, but God, at what cost?"

"Still-"

"And since she might already have health problems," Spencer frowns. "I really don't want to add any more."

"Don't think about that," Toby pleads with her.

Spencer nods towards the far end of the room, where nurses have begun to set up a bunch of different monitors they hadn't seen six years ago with Grace. "How can I not?"

Toby wracks his brain for a moment before suggesting, "Let's choose a name. Our little girl will be here soon and as of right now, she's nameless."

"We didn't even think of a single name this whole time," Spencer says. "Are we terrible planners or terrible parents?"

"Neither. I assumed we'd have more time," Toby says and at the look on Spencer's face, quickly continues forward. "Anything in particular you've heard somewhere or liked for a while? You seemed to be able to choose Grace's name fairly quickly."

"I've always liked the name Grace. It's a classic," Spencer tells him. "It's gotten a little more popular lately, but it's still classic. I think we just need something that's… That's just as timeless and sounds nice with Grace's name. Names that fit well together."

Toby thinks a moment before offering, "What do you think of Lillian? It's classic. It's timeless. And I think it goes well with Grace."

"Lillian," Spencer repeats, trying the name on for size. "Yeah, that's nice. I really like that, Toby."

"Do you?" He asks and she nods genuinely. "I thought it was pretty. I've always really liked it."

"Lillian," She echoes once more. "Our little Lilly. Grace and Lilly… That works really well."

"Yeah, I thought so," He replies. "What do you think her middle name should be? Grace is named after my Mom. Should we name Lilly after yours?"

"Well, I don't know what she's done to deserve that," Spencer says, breathing through another contraction. "How about my grandmother? She was the only one who was ever nice to me, growing up."

"Your Dad's mother?" Toby asks. "The one who calls me The Unreliable One?"

"No," She shakes her head, a smile on her face. "My Mom's mother, Grandma Rose. She knew my parents favored Melissa and she was the only one to call them out on their shit. She passed away when I was in middle school, but she was great. The only relative I ever felt close to."

"Lillian Rose," Toby says and then nods. "Yeah I think we've got it."

"Lillian Rose," Spencer tries and grins. "I think it's beautiful."

And in mere moments, Lillian Rose makes her grand entrance into the world. When Dr. Campbell and her crew arrive, the contractions are every other minute and so unbearable, Spencer can hardly see straight. The team of NICU nurses is ready and waiting, incubator set and fetal heart monitors whirring and beeping into the chaos of the room. None of this is easing any of Spencer's nerves in the slightest. Toby is so calm and reassuring beside her, kissing her temple and mopping her brow and holding her hand, but she knows that deep down, he's just as paralyzed with fear as she is. They thoroughly have no idea what's going to happen when their daughter's born; she could be perfectly healthy, she could be extremely sick, she could toe the line somewhere in between. It all terrifies her. But she bears down and brings their daughter into the world and tries her hardest to think like her husband; _they'll get through anything the way they always do- together_.

She doesn't cry when she's born- the baby, that is. Spencer can already feel tears stinging her eyes the moment the baby leaves her in a tumble of slimy, squirming limbs. Dr. Campbell grins and places the infant on Spencer's chest immediately, announcing to the room, "It's a girl!"

She's _tiny_ ; it's the first thing Spencer notices when they're skin to skin, her mouth the size of a dime, her fingers skinny and long like grains of rice. She doesn't cry, still, but she opens her mouth and lets out a little squeal and that's the end of her mother. Spencer cradles her even closer, kisses the top of her tiny head, and says, "Hi, baby. Oh my god."

"Look at those tiny lips," Toby grins. "And her little nose."

"She looks like you." Spencer decides and rocks her just a little.

Toby chuckles. "You said that last time."

And then, without warning, a kind looking nurse smiles at the overjoyed parents and scoops the infant away from them, tucking her into an incubator and poking and prodding her to get her measurements. Spencer's face falls and she asks, "Wait, what are they doing? Where is she going? Where are they taking her?"

Toby frowns and rubs her back a little, saying, "She has to go to the NICU now, remember?"

"But… I was…" She trails off and watches as one nurse drips something into the baby's eyes and another sticks a needle into her foot, drawing blood. As they roll the isolette out of the room, the little one opens her mouth and lets out a piercing wail that cuts right through her parents. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Of course, Spencer," Dr. Campbell assures her. "We'll take great care of her."

"When can we see her?"

"We'll get you to her as soon as we can," The doctor says. "But first let's get you cleaned up and settled in recovery. And do we have a name for the little peanut?"

"Lillian," Toby answers because Spencer's at a loss for words. "Lillian Rose."

Dr. Campbell smiles. "That's beautiful."

And it's then, as they're signing the birth certificate and getting fit with matching hospital bracelets, that Spencer loses it. She bursts into tears, her shoulders shaking, and Toby frowns. "Come on, Spencer."

"She should be here right now. I should be holding her," She cries. "She shouldn't be… She shouldn't…"

"I know, I know," Toby says and collects her in an embrace. "It's okay. It's okay. She's going to be okay. She's going to be fine."

Spencer asks, "Do you believe that?"

Toby nods and his deep blue eyes are so sincere when he tells her, "Of course I do."

So she does, too.

* * *

Lillian Rose is born at 7:16 a.m. on May 16th, weighing in at five pounds, six ounces and is nineteen inches in length, long and lean. By eight a.m., Spencer's in recovery and the nurses encourage her to get up and move around a bit, stretch her legs, use the restroom, and a bunch of other things she doesn't want to do. She wants to sleep. But even more, she wants to hold her newborn or at least see her to gain a semblance of reassurance. A little after eight thirty, a nurse visits to give her a status update on their peanut- her APGAR score had been perfect, she's breathing beautifully on her own, but she's still going to be monitored for at least the next forty-eight hours, just in case. Spencer drinks in this information and then begs to see her as her nurse advises she get some rest now while she can. As politely as she can be given the unparalleled amounts of stress and exhaustion, Spencer explains that she won't be getting _any_ sleep without knowing her daughter's alright and that they can fight about this all day, but she's not taking no for an answer. She wins.

Around nine a.m., Toby calls their friends and family to relay the news of their latest addition as Spencer mentally prepares herself for _finally_ seeing her daughter again. They head down the long hallway of the maternity ward and are instructed in the direction of the NICU before learning all the rules and regulations of the pristine environment. They wash up to their elbows and have to be buzzed into the facility and are navigated very quickly and very quietly towards the incubator their tiny girl is in. Throughout their journey, Spencer can't help but glance around at all of the other families in this same predicament. There's a lot going on in here, but you could hear a pin drop on the smooth linoleum; it's high drama in a quiet room and she's never felt so nervous and yet so strangely calm all at the same time before. It's easily one of the strangest feelings she's ever encountered in her life.

Lillian's incubator is in the furthest corner of the room and there's a rocking chair beside it, flowers on the windowsill and a beautiful Thomas Kincaid painting on the wall behind her. Before they can even approach her, a cheery young nurse greets them, her voice low. "Hi, my name's Amy. I'm going to be your daughter's primary RN for her hopefully short stay here. And I'm guessing you must be mom and dad?"

"That's right," Toby nods and Spencer immediately cuts to the chase.

"How is she?"

"She's well, honestly," Amy assures them. "Her lungs are fully developed so she's breathing perfectly normal and on her own. Her heart rate's good, her blood pressure is normal and all her reflexes have checked out. We're waiting to feed her and see if her digestive track is all up to speed and if she shows any signs of reflux, but I honestly don't expect her to. She's mostly healthy."

"Mostly?"

"Well, the reason we'll be keeping her just a little longer is because she does have a pretty mild case of jaundice," Amy explains. "I'm not sure how much you know about that."

"I read about it in one of my many pregnancy books," Spencer says. "But I wasn't expecting it. I didn't focus too much on it."

"Well, to make a long story short, jaundice occurs when there is a high level of bilirubin in the blood," Amy says. "Normally, the liver breaks it down and we go about our lives as normal, but since your daughter's liver isn't one hundred percent up to speed quite yet, the excess bilirubin has backed up. It's perfectly normal, one hundred percent treatable, and very common in premature infants, so there's no need to worry."

"Okay," Spencer nods. "So she's okay, then?"

Amy smiles. "Yes, she's okay."

"And you're treating her, obviously, or else she wouldn't need to be here," Toby fills in. "How long will it take?"

Amy replies, "Two to three days. Provided she recovers well and takes her feedings as normal, she'll be able to leave the hospital when you do."

Spencer lets out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. "Oh thank God."

"I know it's scary to deliver prematurely," Amy says. "And even scarier, still, to have your baby hooked up to wires and machines in a place like this. But modern medicine is so advanced these days that there really isn't anything to worry about. That doesn't mean you _won't_ necessarily, but you don't have to."

"She still will," Toby teases and Spencer shakes her head.

"I'm her mother, that's my job," She defends herself. "Can I see her?"

"Of course," Amy smiles and steps aside, folding back the blanket covering the incubator to reveal their little girl. "She's responding to treatments well already. You'll be able to hold her in between."

Lilly is surrounded on all sides by protective foam and is wearing nothing but a tiny diaper. She has the tiniest sleep mask her parents have ever seen over her eyes and there's a needle sticking out of her foot, tiny electrodes stuck to her chest. A harsh blue light is coating the entire incubator and Spencer almost has the urge to laugh; she looks like she's simply at a tanning salon. Glancing up at the nurse, she asks, "Can we take pictures?"

"Oh, of course," Amy nods. "Go right ahead. Just no flash, please."

From there, Lilly has her debut photo shoot on both her parents' cell phones and after a moment, Toby asks, "What's sticking out of her foot?"

"That's the intravenous line," Amy explains. "These lights can be very dehydrating, so we're feeding her fluids to keep her stable. And the heart monitor is what's hooked to her chest, if you were wondering."

Toby smirks. "That was my next question."

He nudges his wife and says, "See? She's all right. Just needs a little tan, that's all."

Spencer replies, "You were right. I just… I just want to hold her."

"Yeah, I know you do," Toby sympathizes. "So do I."

A pang of realization hits her then and she exclaims, "Wait… You haven't held her yet."

"No," Toby confirms. "Not yet."

"Then you should go first," Spencer insists. "I don't want you to get the short end of the stick."

"What? Are you sure?" He asks, searching genuinely for the answer. "It's all you've wanted for _hours_ now. You've been waiting."

"But you've been waiting longer," Spencer says. "Please. Please hold her first."

"Okay, it's just…" He looks apprehensive and she doesn't know why, not at first. But then he sighs and admits, "She's just so small… And the wires… I don't want to pull anything out. I don't want to break her."

"You won't," Spencer assures him. "You won't break her. I know it."

"How do you know?"

"Because you don't break anything," Spencer tells him, thinking back on their long history together. "You fix things. It's in your nature. It's who you are."

He smiles at her and she grins back. She knows just how incredibly lucky she is to have him as a husband and is utterly positive that both her girls, even tiny little Lilly, know just how blessed they are to have him as their father. It's something she thanks her lucky stars for every single night; that she'd found him and held onto him, married him, had children with him, kept him forever. She's always believed that Toby makes everyone better just by being around him but now she knows it's true, undisputed. She'd never liked the person she was until after Toby pushed her to break free from her parents' confining expectations, fight her inner demons and come out swinging on the other side. And it's been years and years since she'd been a mess of a human being and certainly, marriage and motherhood had shaped her just as much. But through it all, he's been by her side, unwavering, endlessly supportive and always full of love, regardless of her good days or her bad. She's long since stopped asking why or how she deserves someone like him and instead, she thanks an invisible being for bringing him to her, because someone out there believed she did.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Amy returns, switches off the phototherapy and carefully lifts Lillian into her arms. "Okay, it's the moment you've been waiting for!"

"Actually," Spencer says. "Toby's going to hold her first."

"Oh. Okay," Amy nods and addresses the infant as she passes her off to her father. "Here you go, Lilly! Here's Daddy!"

And Spencer feels her heart swell six times its normal size the moment their tiny girl is in her husband's arms. As a love-struck teenager, as an overjoyed student full of longing, as a giddy newlywed in the throes of passion, Spencer had believed that she couldn't possibly love Toby more, but nothing had ever prepared her for the most intense feeling of love in her life- the sight of the man she loves most in this world with their children. It had happened with Grace; the first time the nurse had place their squealing, squirming infant in Toby's arms and he'd cooed to her and kissed her and turned to show her off, Spencer's heart had nearly leapt from the confines of her chest. Just the mere visual of the life they'd created, the very first, nestled in a bundle in his arms was enough to make every part of her tremble with joy and love and adoration and more words than the English language can describe. And this hadn't waned in the slightest as the years went on, either. It happens to Spencer every time Toby scoops Grace into his arms and tickles her mercilessly. It happens when he tucks her into bed at night after countless bedtime stories, with voices for each character. It happens whenever Grace is sick or sad and Toby's always there to comfort her and dry her tears. It happens all the time; it happens everyday.

And it happens right now.

He's so gentle; he's always _so_ gentle and it makes her heart ache in the best possible way. Lilly is so tiny that she fits right in the crook of his arm and reaches only about halfway to his wrist. He uses both arms, anyway. A smile grows on his face, then, warm and slow, and he rocks the little one as she settles into him, perfectly content. He bends down and ever so tenderly places a kiss on the top of her teeny tiny head. Toby begins to whisper to the little girl, softly, carefully, and it's almost as if Spencer can see any future stress or worry Lilly might face as she grows quietly slip away. It's then that she realizes that this is what Toby was made to do; he was born to be a caregiver, a protector, a father. He'd cared for his mother when she'd been sick, visited her daily like the dutiful son he was and hadn't given up on her, even after she'd passed. He'd cared for Spencer from the very beginning, always there for her in times of struggle, always a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold. And now, he cares for his two little girls, something he's always been effortlessly good at, something he'd enjoyed and embraced right from the start.

Spencer watches, just watches, as an instant connection is formed between father and daughter and thinks, not for the first time, that she couldn't love him any more.

She knows she's wrong and she can't wait for him to prove it.

* * *

In three days, both Spencer and Lilly are given a clean bill of health and sent home, where the youngest member of the Cavanaugh family is welcomed and greeted by friends and family alike in a grand homecoming party. Most excited about the little one's homecoming, however, is Grace. Minors are not allowed inside the walls of the NICU, so while her parents had introduced her younger sister via FaceTime, Grace had yet to meet Lillian face to face. Bouncing with anticipation, Grace barely even hugs either of her parents before demanding to see and hold her baby sister. It amuses them, but they comply; they place the carrier on the couch in the living room, peel back the blanket shielding the little one from the outside world and officially welcome their youngest daughter home. Presenting Lilly to her older sister, Spencer and Toby both hold their breath and glance to their oldest for her reaction.

They needn't worry; it's love at first sight.

Grace props herself up with multiple pillows and gets the chance to hold her sister for the first time, grinning and cooing and kissing her over and over. Midway through the first meeting, Lilly awakens and glances around at her new surroundings before her beautiful wide eyes fall upon her sister. Grace giggles and says hello and welcomes her home and talks all about how they'll be best friends and play together for the rest of their lives, and that's when Lilly looks long and hard at her older sister before flashing her a bright, gummy smile, the first since her birth. It's right then and there that Spencer knows there's something between these two girls, her two beautiful daughters, that cannot be touched. She'd feared endlessly that having two little girls would only fuel competition and aggression, as having her own sister had. But something tells her everything will be alright; that Grace and Lilly already have a bond deeper than she and Melissa could only dream of. And this makes her so incredibly happy.

That night, as Toby finishes tucking Grace into bed, Spencer places Lilly in the bassinet beside her own bed and peers down at her tiny and wonderful baby girl. The moment she does, however, Lilly's face screws up in anguish and she bursts into tears and Spencer doesn't hesitate to scoop her up, unsurprised. She'd already learned her tiny one is a lover of close physical contact and nearly always wants to be held. Not that Spencer minds, honestly; she could hold her daughter for the rest of her life and be satisfied. Once nestled in her mother's arms, Lilly instantly quiets and snuggles in further, bringing a placid smile to her mother's face. It's strange transitioning from having one child to having two; she'd been so young when she had Grace, so inexperienced, so naïve, and now she understands so much more, but still somehow feels as new to this as ever. It takes her a moment before she realizes she may be different, yes, but so are her children.

It's been three days, but already Spencer notices the differences between Grace and Lilly. Grace had been a fighter from day one; she'd come out of the womb swinging, screaming and crying, always ready for the next best thing. She's loud and energetic and fun; she's endlessly loving and funny and carefree in a way Spencer never has been before. And she'd been this way, this spitfire, firecracker of a girl, ever since she'd been born. But Lilly's different; she's quiet and subdued and doesn't cry unless her parents are nowhere to be seen. She's tiny and almost seems fragile, like the slightest jostle or nudge will break her. And Spencer loves both of her girls to the ends of the Earth and she wouldn't trade either of them for the world. But there's something about her youngest that just makes her want to keep the little girl close to her. There's something about her very nature that almost makes Lilly a shoe-in for the kind of pain Grace can just brush off and learn from. And it doesn't hit her until much later- her daughter has a soft, kind soul, identical to the one she's found in her husband.

And there it is, out in the open- _you want to protect her because she's just like him, a teeny, tiny female version of the man you fell in love with, and you've always been so protective of him_.

So she glances down at her sleeping, beautiful, perfect baby girl and the love she feels for her is almost enough to knock her out. Carefully, she places a kiss on her daughter's forehead and whispers softly,

"I'll keep you safe. I promise."


	9. i will not leave til it's our time

**Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! How's everyone doing? I'm well, thank you. Happy day after Easter! If you celebrated, I hope you had a nice holiday. I just worked lol. Disney's been crazy busy this week, but story of our lives for 90% of the year. Thank you for reading and reviewing and continuing to enjoy! I'm so lucky to have you wonderful pixies. You're just the best, honestly.**

 **Today's chapter title comes from- it's a blast from the past, let's see if you remember it- "The Gambler" by Fun. Really brings you back, doesn't it? LOL. After all, "I'll set the table" was named from that song as were multiple of the chapters. Guess what? It's been two years (!) and that song is still my favorite. Will never get over it. And it needed to make an appearance here, somehow. So yeah. Thank you for being here today and, as always, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

i will not leave till it's our time

It's a little after eleven and Grace is sound asleep in her crib when the idea comes to her.

"We need to have a really important conversation," Spencer says, climbing into bed. Because all important conversations start here, right?

"Are you okay?" Toby asks immediately, because her well-being is always on his mind and she loves him for it. She hopes they can get through this conversation with minimal drama.

"I'm fine," Spencer assures him. "Look… We've been married for a year now and we have a baby…"

"I know, this is all moving so fast," Toby jokes and Spencer shoots him a look.

"I know I'm still in school and you're just getting off the ground, but we need to think about… We need to think about life insurance," Spencer tells him. "We have to make a 401k. We have to be adults."

"Can we be adults tomorrow?" Toby yawns. "I have to be on site at 6 a.m."

"No, we can't, because I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow," Spencer says. "You could fall off of a roof and crack your skull open and I could get run over by a taxi."

Toby's eyes widen. "Why are you having these terrible thoughts? Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know. But Grace is six months old and we still don't have a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"We have to figure out who gets her," Spencer says. "We need to figure out where she would go if God forbid anything should happen to you and me."

"You mean like a will?" Toby asks and Spencer nods slowly. "God, this is morbid."

"I know and I don't like the conversation any more than you do," Spencer says. "But it's important. She's getting older and more and more days are going by and anything could happen. I just want to know that she'll be safe."

"Okay," Toby agrees and sits up against the headboard, switching on the light. "Let's start with life insurance."

"Great, because I've actually already researched a few plans," Spencer tells him, reaching for her laptop and illuminating the screen.

Toby rolls his eyes. "Of course you did."

She details the plan she likes the most first and Toby seems to be in accord. "So I'd make you my primary beneficiary and that way if I were to die, then the money goes to you. And what I like about this plan is that the funeral costs are included in the plan, so you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Okay," Toby says, a bit hesitant to broach the subject of her death. "So I'll just get the same plan."

"Right, and we would even get a ten percent discount on the second plan, which I think is cool," Spencer goes on. "It's because we're both employed so we both have income that would go towards our insurance plan. But like, if I didn't work, I wouldn't get life insurance because I wouldn't have money to put towards it, you know?"

"Sure," Toby says. "So if I die, you get to cash in on my life insurance immediately?"

"Well, I guess so," Spencer replies. "It says the insurer needs acceptable proof of death to cash in on the policy. Understandable, because if not, anyone could just say you were dead for the money. Insurance fraud, you know?"

"Okay, and how do we pay for this thing?"

"Well, they have different payment plans," Spencer says. "We can do it all in one, which is impossible because we'd both go broke. Or we could pay in regular installments. I like this one, personally. It covers the insured's whole life."

"This is morbidly depressing," Toby tells her. "But that is a _shit ton_ of money."

"Yeah," Spencer chuckles. "It builds up over time."

"How do I know you're not just going to kill me to get the money?" Toby jokes and Spencer rolls her eyes.

"Because I'd rather have you than the money, Toby. Sorry to disappoint."

"Are you sure? This guy's apparently worth 5.6 million dollars. Can you imagine that kind of money?"

"Yeah it's a lot and it might help me survive life as a single mother financially speaking," Spencer says. "But not in any other way. I don't _want_ you to go anywhere. I just think this is something we need to do."

"Okay, okay," Toby places a hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze. "It was just a joke. We can put in an application tomorrow, if you'd like."

"I would," Spencer says. "I can stop by after I pick up Grace."

"I'll meet you there."

"Good," She nods, satisfied. "Okay, next order of business- we need a 401k."

"And that's a retirement plan?" Toby asks and Spencer nods. "No offense, but you _kind of_ need a career before you can think about retirement."

She smirks. "No, I know. I can't make one yet, but _you_ can."

"I'll get right on it, I promise," Toby tells her. "I'm not entirely sure how they work, but I can figure it out."

"Basically, you set up a plan and a portion of your paycheck goes towards retirement for the rest of your career," Spencer explains, clicking away at her computer. "I read all about it online. I'll email you the link."

Toby chuckles. "Okay."

"Read it and set it up. It'll take like five minutes."

"I already told you I would, didn't I?"

"Alright," She says. "Let's… Let's talk about Grace."

"So if… if something happens to us," Toby winces at the mere thought. "Well, do we make Grace the secondary beneficiary on our new life insurance plans?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods and she's already beginning to feel slightly ill at the prospect of their tiny baby alone in the world. "So she'd be the secondary, which means she'd only get the money if both of us…"

"Die," Toby finishes and Spencer nods quickly.

"Yeah," There's a lump in her throat the size of a baseball. "So we can set it up so that in the event that… _That_ happens, she can either get the money immediately, or she can receive several installments throughout her lifetime, or she can get half upon the time of our demise and the other half when she turns eighteen, provided she's younger than that when we… Otherwise, she'd just get it all at that time."

"So if we die… If we die after she turns eighteen she gets it all, regardless?" Toby asks and Spencer nods.

"Right, because she'll be an adult and we won't be legally responsible for her anymore."

"This is all very confusing," Toby says. "Should we just let her get all of the money at the time of our deaths?"

"Well I don't know, though, because like… What if it's next year?" Spencer asks. "What does a one-year-old need all that money for?"

"Well, she wouldn't," Toby says. "But her legal guardian, whomever that may be, can put it towards her care or can start a college fund or a savings account with it."

"True," Spencer bites her lip. "I like the half and half plan. Let's say Grace is fourteen when we both die. She'll get half of her money then and then the other half in four years when she turns eighteen."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Toby considers. "It's just that… What if she dies before she's eighteen? Then where does the money go?"

Spencer's face falls and she asks, "Why are you hypothetically killing our child?"

"I'm not killing anyone!" Toby exclaims. "This is your fault. You killed the two of us first."

"I know, look…" Spencer sighs. "This whole thing is scary and sad and terrible. Let's just pick a plan for her and then we can… Talk about something else."

"Like who gets her?" Toby asks and Spencer frowns because it had been her idea in the first place, but she'd already forgotten that part.

"So you want her to get all the money immediately upon our demise?" Spencer asks, making notes on her computer. "Are you sure?"

"Is that not what you want?"

"I'm fine with it, honestly," She shivers. "This conversation is going to give me nightmares."

"Okay, so if we die tomorrow, all the money goes to Grace immediately," Toby powers through, ignoring the horrifying mental image of their tiny baby girl growing up never knowing her parents. "We just have to hope whomever her legal guardian is will put it towards her well-being and not… I don't know, spend it."

"Well, they won't be able to spend it, because it's Grace's money," Spencer says. "We can make that a condition; that the money goes towards Grace's savings."

"Okay," Toby exhales a deep breath. "Okay, I'm feeling slightly better about this."

Spencer shoots him an incredulous look. "You are?"

"I said _slightly_."

"Now the big one," Spencer sighs. "Who should Grace's legal guardian be? Who… Who do we want to raise her?"

"See, I can't answer this," Toby shakes his head. "This is the hardest question thus far because _I_ want to raise her."

Spencer smiles sympathetically. "Well, yeah, so do I. But… If God forbid something should happen… She's so young. She has to go to someone."

"Okay," Toby frowns. "Well… The most obvious first choice would be one of our parents."

Spencer shoots him a look. " _That's_ the most obvious first choice? Are you kidding?"

"Well, they've all raised kids-"

"And did a bang up job, let me tell you."

"Spencer."

"Okay, I know we have to seriously consider them, but there's no _way_ ," Spencer says. "Let's start with mine. I don't know how or why they're still together, they forced my sister and me into competition with each other and played favorites our entire childhood. Like… That's _not_ healthy."

"Your Mom loves Grace," Toby points out. "Your Dad, too."

"I'm not doubting that. Of _course_ they love her; she's their granddaughter," Spencer says. "It's just… I can't leave her with them for the rest of her life. She'll grow up anxiety-ridden and stressed over _everything_ and she'll experiment with drugs and… I can't bear the thought of that."

"Their child-rearing techniques are less than adequate," Toby adds. "But you know your Mom will throw a fit if and when she finds out she's not Grace's guardian."

"I know," Spencer frowns. "But I'll be dead, so I won't have to deal with the backlash."

Toby snorts. "Real nice, Spence."

"Hey, you'll be dead too. It's not all bad."

"Okay, your parents are out of the question," Toby says. "Now don't laugh too hard at the next candidates- _my_ parents."

She can't help it; she snickers. "I'm sorry, Toby, no."

"Please, I'm hardly offended," Toby shakes his head. "The only people worse than your parents to leave Grace with are mine."

"Can you imagine?" Spencer asks. "Grace wants to be a whale trainer at Sea World, but your father flips out and excommunicates her because that's not a respectable profession."

Toby smirks. "A whale trainer at Sea World?"

"Oh yeah," Spencer nods. "It's the most random career I could think of. And _I'd_ never let her pursue that because I watched _Blackfish_ and no way in _hell_ is she going near those swimming death traps."

"Careful, babe," Toby warns playfully. "You keep limiting what Grace can and can't do and you'll start to sound like your parents."

Spencer frowns. "You take that back."

"Okay, so my parents are out," Toby says. "We're running out of blood relatives, Spence. Unless…"

"Don't say it."

"There's always your sister."

"I would rather _die_."

"Technically, you would already be dead."

Spencer frowns. "There is no _way_ I am leaving my poor baby girl with my sister. No way. Not happening."

"She's not doing a terrible job with Vivian."

"She's not doing a _great_ job with Vivian," Spencer says. "She has attachment issues, she still doesn't sleep through the night, she's closer to the _nanny_ than she is to her mother-"

"Oh come on, lay off your sister," Toby suggests. "It wouldn't be terrible and Grace would still grow up in the family. She'd always have someone to play with and I think your parents would understand why she went to your sister and not to them."

"Think about it for one second, Toby," Spencer disagrees. "Think about the first time Grace has a softball game and doesn't win. Or comes home with a B on a paper instead of an A. Or tells them about her boyfriend who _isn't_ the star quarterback or the valedictorian of the school, but instead just an average Joe. They're going to judge her _so hard_. And do you know why?"

"Because they want her to be 'perfect' like Vivian?"

"Yes," Spencer sighs. "Because Melissa learned _nothing_ from our parents' backwards way of parenting and she's instead doing things the exact same way."

"That's true."

" _And_ ," She continues because she can't express to him enough how bad of an idea this is. "Do you really want her growing up where _Wren_ is her father figure?"

" _Fuck_ no," Toby exclaims adamantly. "Jesus, I didn't even think of that."

"I did."

"She is _not_ going to your sister. Over my dead body."

"I mean, _technically_ , you would already be dead, so…"

"Ha, ha," Toby shoots her look and she grins. "Okay… So where does that leave us?"

"Honestly, I don't know," She sighs. "Isn't it sad how she can't go to our family?"

Toby considers this and then shakes his head. "No. No, she can still go to our family."

"What are you talking about? We literally just exhausted all of our options."

"No," Toby grins. "We didn't."

"Are you suggesting we leave her with Jenna? Are you dead in this scenario already? Because if not, I'm going to _kill_ you."

"What? No!" Toby disagrees. "Come on, I know it's late and you've been with Grace _all_ day, but cut me some slack. I would never in a million years leave my daughter with… with _her_."

"Well we're out of family, otherwise."

"Yeah, _blood_ relatives," Toby corrects her. "You're forgetting our other family. The one we chose."

"Oh my god," Spencer exclaims. "She could go to one of the girls."

"There you go."

"But which one?" Spencer wonders. "I can't choose. You pick."

"Me?" Toby asks and when his wife nods he considers this a while before saying, "Emily."

"Of course you'd pick Emily."

"You said I could pick! What's wrong with Emily?"

"Nothing!" Spencer insists. "She'd do a great job, I know it. But what about Aria and Hanna?"

"Well, you would've said the same thing had I chosen one of them," Toby says. "If Grace goes to Aria, she would be with Jason, too. Still blood related regardless of what your father thinks."

"Oh my _god_ , I forgot about Jason!" Spencer exclaims. "I am the _worst_ sister."

"No you're not."

"Well, she's got to go to him, right?"

"She can. But what about Hanna? Or Emily?"

"Hanna would _never_ speak to me again if I chose someone else."

"Spence, once again, we're _dead_."

"Ugh," Spencer groans. "This is terrible. This is so hard. How do people do this?"

"Wait," Toby says after a beat. "Maybe we can figure out a way where Grace can go to all three of them."

At this, Spencer looks hopeful. "We can? How?"

"First, we need to ask them if they're okay with raising our child once we're gone," Toby says and Spencer realizes she hadn't even thought of that. "Second, if we put down all three of their names, and their spouses names' obviously, then no one gets left out. Each of them can have a little piece of Grace… And us, too, since we'll be gone."

"And then _they_ can choose who she lives with," Spencer grins. "And that burden comes off of our shoulders."

Toby smirks. "I was trying to be nice about it, but yeah. That's true, too. It'll be up to them."

She nods approvingly. "I like this plan. I want Grace to stay in the family. I trust these girls with my life and… Well, Grace is my life, now."

"Okay," Toby yawns. "That's settled. We can maybe meet them for dinner tomorrow or the next day to sort this out?"

"Yeah," Spencer agrees and switches off the lamp on her bedside table. "That was a terribly hard and depressing conversation, but we handled it like adults. Neither of us got sappy or weepy. Well done."

"Not yet anyway," Toby says. "I wonder how the girls would explain to Grace what happened to us."

"Oh my god. Don't even go there."

"Losing a parent is probably the worst thing to go through as a child," Toby sighs. "That's my worst nightmare, for her, I mean."

Spencer frowns and is just about to say something when he turns to her and says, "For the record Spence… If anything were to ever happen to me-"

"Toby, please don't finish that sentence."

"No, I'm serious," He says. "If anything were to ever happen to me, I'd want you to move on. Honestly. Find someone that treats you and Grace right, someone that makes you both happy-"

"Are you kidding me?" Spencer cuts him off. "You're the only one who does that; the only one who has _ever_ done that. I'm supposed to just replace you?"

"That's not what I said," He tells her. "But I can't stand the thought of you being miserable for eternity. Guys have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. One of them has to be decent enough to spend the rest of your life with."

"Who cares if he is?" Spencer asks him. "I'm already _with_ the person I'm spending the rest of my life with. And you're _not_ going anywhere, got it?"

"Got it," He chuckles. "I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well don't 'just say'."

"So if you die, I'm not allowed to move on?"

"Sure, fine, go right ahead. It's that easy."

Toby frowns and when he glances at her, she's legitimately upset. "Spencer… You're the one who brought up this entire situation. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"You're not, I just…" She sighs. "I don't want to think about you dying okay? Thank you for the blessing to move on, but it isn't that easy. It's been years, but I still know what that looks and feels like and… I'm sorry, but your blessing can go fuck itself."

He grins at her before laughing the tiniest bit. "I love you so much, do you know that?"

"Yes," She smiles too and it seems the morbid talk is gone, for now.

"For the record, I don't see myself moving on in the wake of your passing, either," He informs her, pulling her closer. "I could never find someone who makes me laugh the way you do, or someone who's as great of a mother as you are, or someone as hardworking and dedicated and competitive, or someone as foulmouthed, because let's face it, you swear like a trucker and it's adorable, or someone-"

"I get it, I'm one of a kind," Spencer jokes and then pulls his mouth to hers. "Here's to not dying anytime soon."

"Yeah," Toby grins. "Here's to that."

* * *

They're conversing over appetizers when Spencer decides now is the time to broach the subject.

"Okay guys, I have to admit I had an ulterior motive in inviting you to lunch today," She announces and she immediately gains the attention of all three girls.

"I knew it," Hanna says instantly, not missing a beat. "It's never just a 'let's catch up' thing with you."

"That's not true," Spencer defends herself. "We catch up all the time."

"Not _all_ the time," Emily says and when Spencer shoots her a look, she adds, "Well come on, you're in New York, you're going to school, you're living the dream, and we're all still here."

"You can get out if you want out," Spencer states. "I'm just saying."

"Guys, does it really matter why Spencer called us here?" Aria asks. "It's just so good to see you. You could be getting us all together to tell us you're dying and I'd still be fine with it."

Hanna and Emily stare at her until the petite brunette realizes what she's just said. "Okay, that's not what I meant. _Obviously_ I don't want you to die, Spence, I love you. It was just an expression."

"Well, actually," Spencer says and uses this as a bridge to the morbid conversation ahead. "Speaking of dying-"

"Oh my god," Hanna gasps. "You _are_ dying."

"Wow," Aria's eyes are wide. "Well now I feel like an asshole."

"No, I'm not dying," Spencer quickly reassures her best friends. "I just-"

"Is it Toby?" Hanna then asks. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It's-"

"Or Grace?" Emily wonders. "What's wrong with my sweet little angel?"

"Oh my god, literally nothing," Spencer states. "Can I finish my sentence, please?"

"Yes, please."

"Sure. I'm sorry."

"A couple of nights ago, Toby and I were talking about death," Spencer begins. "And what would happen to Grace if something were to, God forbid, happen to us."

"Wow, you guys have pretty stellar pillow talk," Hanna teases. "I mean, death? Orphaning your child? Talk about sexy."

Spencer deadpans, "Sentence. Trying to get it out. Thank you."

"Shutting up," Hanna replies. "Sorry."

"Anyway," Spencer sighs. "We went through the list of all the people we know trying to choose a guardian for Grace in the event of our untimely demise. We were sure we wanted her to stay in the family, but when it came to our _actual_ family, no one really measured up."

"Oh my god," Emily says. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "We were wondering if maybe… If you guys would raise her."

"All of us?" Hanna asks. "Like… Three Women and a Baby?"

"Yeah," Spencer chuckles. "I'd say let me know how that one turns out, but I'd be dead, so…"

"Of course I will," Emily's the first to agree. "That's a definite yes from me. I would take such great care of Grace. And Paige would definitely be in, too. We love your little one and if you and Toby are both gone… You can trust us. We'll give her such a great life."

"Thank you," Spencer grins. "That's all we can ask for."

"I'll teach her to swim and take her to karaoke nights and on weekend picnics," Emily schemes. "And at night, I'll tuck her into bed and tell her all about how her parents met, how my two best friends fell in love, and how much you both love her."

For some reason, this brings tears to Spencer's eyes. She blinks them away. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice."

"Well, it's a yes from me, too," Hanna announces. "Caleb and I are already pretty much rocking this parenting thing and I'm pretty sure McKenzie and Grace are already best friends. What's better than growing up with your best friend?"

Chuckling, Spencer shrugs. "I can't think of a single thing."

"They can stay up late together talking about clothes and boys," Hanna dreams. "And we'll take her on our family camping trips and to the park and to Montecito, when we go visit Caleb's family. And I'd never let that kid wear white after Labor Day and she would _always_ have the best closet out of anyone in the entire school. She'll be so stylish. She'll have it all."

"Aw look, Spence. Hanna's going to spoil her," Aria jokes. "But seriously, I would be honored to raise baby Grace. She'll be my little princess. We'll read fairytales and dress up and take pictures, and she'll be a romantic, and I'll tell her she's just like her mother. We'll paint and draw and take up photography and she'll probably be ridiculously artistic, just like her father. It would be so great."

"This is going to be so much fun," Hanna says next. "We should figure out like a custody agreement or something. Like I'll get her on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Em, you can take Tuesdays and Thursdays and Aria, you'll get the weekends?"

"That's fine," Emily agrees. "But why do _you_ get her most often?"

"Yeah and who gets holidays?" Aria asks. "And do we really expect her to have a stable life if she keeps bouncing around like this?"

"Hmm, good point," Hanna considers. "Well, we can iron out the details later. But I think every year, we should do like a big vacation somewhere, where all three of us can hang out with her together; all her pseudo-parents."

"Ooh, that is a good idea," Aria agrees. "Somewhere adventurous, like Europe."

"No," Emily shakes her head. "Somewhere fun, like Disney World!"

"Oh you know what every little girl needs?" Hanna asks. "A canopy bed."

"Yeah," Aria gasps. "With the wispy curtains and a big fluffy comforter?"

Hanna's clicking away at the keys on her phone before saying, "Look, this one's only two hundred dollars."

"That's not bad at all!"

"That's a really good deal."

"Um, hello?" Spencer brings them back to reality. "This is a conditional situation. You realize that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hanna nods. "It's just… We want to be prepared, you know?"

"I'm still her mother," Spencer says. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

"No, of course," Aria agrees. "But… Do we ever really _plan_ on dying?"

"Aria!"

"No, she's right," Emily says. "I mean, obviously we all hope this won't happen. But you never know."

Spencer scoffs. "I am _seriously_ rethinking choosing the three of you to raise my _child_."

"Come on, Spence, we're all joking," Hanna grins. "This is honestly one of the most amazing opportunities I've ever been given."

"Yeah, same here," Aria agrees. "Rest assured, we would do everything in our power to make sure Grace has a rich and full life."

"Yeah," Emily nods along. "Your baby's safe with us. I promise."

Spencer grins too. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us."

A huge weight is lifted from her chest. Her daughter will always be well cared for, even long after she's gone.

* * *

In retrospect, Toby supposes this is entirely his fault.

The plan had been simple; it's not everyday that he and Spencer get an afternoon free from their children, so they'd easily made arrangements for a day all to themselves. While their young ones are off spending some quality time roaming about Rosewood for the day with their aunt and cousin, Toby had decided to drive the truck down and surprise Spencer with a picnic at their lookout point, for old time's sake. They don't often make it to Rosewood and that's merely out of careful consideration and complete disgust of their childhood town, but the nostalgia that accompanies each trip still, somehow, has the power to render each of them completely guilty. Both of their families still reside here and neither set makes a conscious effort to drive the hour and visit their children, at least not very often, and thus, if they want their children to have even a semblance of a relationship with the extended family- something they go back and forth on daily- the trip is necessary.

Regardless, the day starts off super simple. Melissa had expressed interest in taking the kids to paint pottery, which sounded absolutely like a disaster waiting to happen, but all three of their kids were enthused, so the plan was a go. Their parents had enjoyed a wonderfully prepared picnic lunch while watching Rosewood merely exist below them and now they're lounging, enjoying the early summer air and each other's company. Toby's lying on his back, watching the clouds swim in the great expanse of sky and wondering when the last time was that they got this kind of peace, and Spencer's lying mostly on him, her head resting on his collarbone, her fingers threaded through his. It's serene and they're able to have genuine conversation that _isn't_ about the kids for once and they're finally able to breathe… and Toby wishes he could remember it, honestly. Because in the next few moments, all that encompasses his mind is fear and panic.

They leave the lookout point a little after two o'clock and everything happens in flashes, just like the movies. They're roughly five hundred feet from a red light and Toby steps on the brake, but nothing happens. The car in front of them is growing closer and closer and they're still doing forty-five. Spencer tenses beside him and says, "You going to slow down anytime today?"

"I'm trying."

"I know you hate backseat driving, but that Sedan is getting _pretty_ close and-"

"No, Spence, I'm seriously trying," Toby says and steps on the brake so hard, the pedal touches the floor. "The brake's not working."

"Oh my god," Spencer's eyes are wide. "Oh my god, it's not doing anything?"

"Absolutely nothing," He says again and steps a little harder on the pedal for emphasis. "I wish I could say this was the first time the brakes have failed but…"

"Toby, we're going to die!" Spencer exclaims, her hands tearing at her hair in distress. "Oh my god, I shouldn't have agreed to get into this death trap."

"You _bought_ me this death trap."

"We're going to hit that car!"

"We're not going to hit that car."

At the last possible second, Toby swerves out of the way, into the turn lane- and into oncoming traffic. Spencer once again repeats, "Oh my god, you're going to kill both of us."

"It's been doing so well lately," Toby frowns. "The emergency brake-"

"Came off in my hand," Spencer tells him, holding it up for evidence. "At least this truck will die with us. Poetic, really."

"We're _not_ going to die. I'll just-"

"Toby, the van!"

They're still doing nearly fifty down the wrong side of the street with no sign of slowing down. A florist's van honks loudly, speeds into the intersection and Toby just barely misses it, but this maneuver sends them into a tailspin. They spin once, twice, and then burst through the guardrail, coming to a shrieking, smashing halt when the front end of the truck collides with a great oak tree. The force of the impact sends both of them careening into the dashboard and they've already hit it by the time the airbags engage. His blood is racing, his heart's in his throat and Spencer's hand is clutched tightly in his own. He knows, deep down, this was never going to be a life or death situation. But his mind hadn't been convinced; it wasn't the typical 'life flashes before your eyes' scene, but something much simpler. For the duration of the crash, from brake failure to impact, the only things crossing his mind were three names. _Grace Lilly Henry. Grace Lilly Henry. Grace Lilly Henry._

His ankle feels like it's on fire and he can't move the left side of his body. There's a crack in the windshield the size of Texas and the engine is smoking. Their beloved truck is in shambles- and so are they. Glancing over at his wife, Toby manages to croak out, "You okay?"

Spencer's rubbing her forehead and picking glass out of her hair, but she nods slowly. "Well… We didn't die."

"You're bleeding," Toby comments and reaches out, painfully, towards the gash in her forehead.

"Fuck, I am," Spencer says and tries- and fails- to staunch the wound. "I need to call the kids."

"Yes," Toby agrees, hissing in pain. "But also… An ambulance. And a tow truck."

"Give up on the truck, babe. It's done. It put up a nice long fight, but it's time to say goodbye."

"Spence, it's our first _baby_."

"Grace is our first baby," Spencer disagrees. "And Grace never tried to murder us."

A car pulls over to the side of the road, stops, and the driver rushes up to their window. "Are you guys okay? Do you need help?"

"Yes," Spencer answers before her husband can. "Yes, please."

On the ambulance ride over, Spencer manages to get ahold of her sister to relay the news of their accident. They're separated upon arrival at the hospital and it just so happens that the burning sensation Toby had felt in his ankle had been a terrible sprain. He isn't too surprised; his foot had gotten caught by the door and upon impact with the tree, he's honestly shocked it hadn't completely shattered the bone. The nurses set it in a splint and wrap it in a giant medical boot, telling Toby to be off his foot as much as possible the first couple of weeks. They'd like to see him back in eight weeks to be sure no further damage has been done and to ensure it's healed properly and before he can agree and sign his life away for prescription pain killers, a knock on the door signals the doctor's appearance.

Unsurprisingly- this is Rosewood, after all- it's his brother-in-law.

"Toby," The Brit greets him, a smug grin on his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Toby frowns. "Please. I could ask the same question."

"You know very well we split our time between Rosewood and London," Wren tells him, reaching for Toby's chart. "New York, too, when we can. That's a lovely city."

"Yeah, it's great," Toby replies, sick of the small talk already. "Spencer and I got in an accident. We're fine, really."

"Ah, I see," Wren nods. "Having trouble keeping your truck on the road, are you?"

"No," Toby sighs. "It's old. The brakes are-"

"You drove down here in _that_ thing?" Wren interrupts, in disbelief and amusement. "With your wife and kids? Are you mad?"

If his blood wasn't boiling before, it certainly is now. But before he can get out a retort, however, Spencer appears in the doorway, clearing her throat. "Hey. You okay?"

It's clear she's speaking to her husband and yet, Wren answers, instead. "Well, darling, thank you. Toby here's got a concussion, like you, a pretty mild one, at that. A little rest and relaxation and you'll both be good as new."

Toby's response is emitted through gritted teeth. "Thanks."

"I want to see you back in six to eight weeks to remove that boot," Wren then says, heading for the door. "And, uh, next time, try to be a little more careful, yeah? Take care of your precious cargo."

He winks at Spencer in passing. "See you later, Spencer."

She shivers and sits in a chair beside Toby. "Every time I talk to him, I feel like I need to take seventeen showers afterwards."

"There is no way in _hell_ I'm coming back here in six to eight weeks," Toby disagrees, sitting up in full. "I'll see my general practitioner, a human being I actually _trust_."

Spencer smirks and only then does Toby notice the bandage across her brow. "How many stitches?"

"Seven," Spencer sighs. "And he did those, too."

"What the hell? Is he the _only_ doctor Rosewood has?" Toby asks and Spencer shrugs.

"Get off the Wren train," She begs and eyes his boot. "Break?"

"Sprain," Toby shrugs. "It doesn't hurt, anymore. I can walk on it, but I'm not supposed to overdo it."

"Melissa called while I was in triage," Spencer tells him. "She's bringing the kids to us."

"Good. They're okay?"

"They're fine," Spencer nods. "I don't know how much they know, but they're okay. She also said we could stay with her until we get a car to go home."

"Ugh. Okay."

"The auto mechanic called, too," Spencer says and Toby's instantly intrigued. "It's going to be twice our mortgage to fix that truck."

"How are we going to do that?"

Spencer gives him a look that easily reads, _we're not_. Toby frowns and pleads, "Spence, the _truck_. We can't give up on it!"

"Why not?" Spencer asks. "It gave up on us today. It put up a nice, long, hard fight, but it's done. It's time."

"It's not time yet," Toby disagrees. "If the mechanic won't give us a good enough deal, I'll figure out a way to get it fixed."

"Toby, you're not a mechanic."

"I'm not, but I can figure something out," He shrugs and Spencer rolls her eyes.

"I mean, it's getting down to zip ties and duct tape at this point…"

"I'm fixing it. You can't stop me."

"What's a nice way to say someone's… obsessive?"

Toby shoots her a look and her grin splits her entire face. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," Spencer insists. "But I'm starting to think you love that truck more than me."

"Oh my god, it's not even a close call," Toby says and reaches for her hand. "I am… so, _so_ sorry for earlier. Like I can't even _fathom_ the idea that I got us into… That you were… Spencer, I'm _so_ sorry."

"It's not your fault," She tells him, caressing his cheek. "You know I don't blame you. It happens. It was an accident."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't. That's why it was an _accident_."

"Still-"

"Still nothing," Spencer shakes her head. "It could've happened at any time; when I first got you the truck, three years from now, on our drive down here with the kids-"

"Thank god it didn't."

"Thank god is right."

A knock on the door startles them from their conversation and Melissa's there, a look of relief on her face. "Oh good, you're both okay."

Spencer replies, "I told you we were."

"Well, you've got some visitors," Melissa says next and opens the door a bit wider, her nephew and nieces rushing in to see their parents.

"Mommy!" Henry exclaims eagerly as Spencer pulls him into her lap. He wraps his arms around her neck and then pulls back, examining her bandage. "What's that? You look like a zombie."

"Did it hurt?" Grace asks. "Was it loud? Did you scream? Did the firemen come? Did they have to get you out with the Jaws of Life?"

Lilly is straight bawling to the point of hyperventilation. Toby collects her in his arms, rubbing her back and whispering quietly in an attempt to calm her. "We're fine, honey. We're okay. Everything's all right."

Henry glances from his father to his mother before asking, "What's it like to die?"

Spencer shoots her sister an angry look, asking, "What did you tell them?"

Melissa shrugs. "What do you mean? You called and said you'd been in accident. So I told them you'd been in an accident."

"And why in _God's name_ would you think that was a good idea?" Spencer asks next, to the tune of Lilly's hysterical sobs and Henry's incessant questions.

"Because it's the truth?" Melissa wonders. "I don't know if _you_ lie to your kids, but I'm not going to."

"It's not about lying to them," Spencer refutes. "But they're children and you don't need to freak them out and leave us to clean up your mess!"

"They're _children_?" Melissa rolls her eyes. "So that means they need to be sheltered?"

"They're twelve, six and four," Spencer repeats. "They're _children_."

"Well, I guess this is something we can add to the long list of parenting ideals we do _not_ agree upon."

"Mommy," Henry puts in again. "If you and Daddy died, would you come visit us as ghosts?"

A fresh sob escapes Lilly's lips and Toby holds her closer in response. "Take a deep breath, honey, you're okay."

"Hen, listen to me," Spencer says, her eyes locking with her son's. "Are you listening?"

He nods. "Yup."

"Daddy and I are not going anywhere," Spencer tells him. "Our truck just had a little hiccup, okay? It stopped working the right way and that happens sometimes. But we're going to get a new one to drive home in and let this old one visit the junkyard. Right, Toby?"

Toby sighs. Spencer shoots him a look. " _Right_ , Toby?"

"Right." He emits reluctantly and Lilly looks a bit more at peace.

"And our new car will be okay?"

"It will be totally safe," Spencer assures them. "I would never put you guys in danger."

"But Daddy," Lilly says, her lower lip quivering and tears still in her chocolate brown eyes. "Your leg is hurt."

"Just a little sprain, sunshine," Toby tells her. "I'll get better in no time. Mommy, too. We're both going to be perfectly okay and we're all going to go home together, okay?"

She nods and Spencer glances to her oldest child, who's been very quiet. It's unlike her; Spencer asks, "Grace? Everything okay?"

Grace nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

"You sure?"

"We're both okay, monkey," Toby tells his daughter. "Really."

He watches as the last bit of fear is diminished from her eyes, for now. He hopes that hugs and endless reassurance will be enough to quench all their children's fears.

* * *

Unfortunately, they're not.

In the week since their parents' accident, the Cavanaugh children have been having extremely strong reactions to the situation they'd hoped to be past. Henry has kept up with his millions of questions, asking where one goes upon death and how long a funeral is and if it's cold underground and do you even feel it, if you're dead? It's morbid talk for a preschooler and his questions don't stop, even at school; his teachers beg Spencer and Toby to put a stop to it, as he's scaring the other children. Grace is unusually quiet and uncharacteristically clingy. She asks to know her parents' whereabouts at all times and refuses to be left home alone and stays up much too late, researching foster homes and legal guardians on Google. And Lilly, easily being the most emotional of their three children, has frequent nightmares, screams, cries out in her sleep, and, tirelessly, her parents decide they need to have a deeper discussion with their children. They'd merely scratched the surface and unfortunately, it hadn't been enough.

"Just tell me," Henry whines, stamping his foot. "Tell me what happens!"

"Henry, I don't _know_ what happens," Spencer sighs, shutting the front door behind them. "No one does."

"But does it hurt when you die?" Henry begs. "Is it hard? Is someone there or are you alone?"

"Henry, I don't have _any_ idea."

"Mom!" Grace shrieks, entering the foyer with Lilly by her side, clearly distressed. "You didn't tell me you left."

"Yes I did," Spencer sighs. "I said I was taking Henry to-"

"No you didn't!" Grace shakes her head. "You _have_ to tell me when you leave. And when you think you'll be home."

Spencer glances from her questioning four-year-old to her lip-quivering six-year-old to her anxiety-ridden twelve-year-old and sighs heavily. "Where's your father? We need to have a talk."

"Daddy's in the garage," Lilly answers. "Trying to fix the truck again."

Spencer groans and says, "Will one of you get him, please? Meet me in the living room. It's important."

They reconvene on comfy couches and with confusion etched in each of their brows, but this conversation is a long time coming. Toby and Spencer sit down in front of them and each draw in a deep breath before beginning. "Guys… We have to talk about this accident."

"You _said_ you guys were okay," Grace accuses. "But Dad still has the cast on and Mom's stitches _still_ bleed every now and then, so obviously you're not."

Toby turns to his wife in concern. "It's _still_ bleeding?"

"Not regularly," Spencer says. "It bled the other day because I got one of the stitches caught in my hairbrush. This isn't about me, remember?"

"Right," Toby shakes his head. "Anyway, we want to talk about how you guys feel about it. Because we know you were scared and even though you're telling us you're okay now, the things that have happened recently are telling us that's not true."

The three children glance nervously between one another but say nothing. Spencer asks, "Anyone? Tell us anything. Really. It's okay."

"It's okay to be scared," Toby tells them gently. "I know we freaked you out. But I want you to be able to tell us what you're feeling so we can try and make it better."

Silence ensues for a moment before Henry raises his tiny hand. Smiling, Spencer says, "Go ahead, Hen."

"I was scared because the car accidents on TV are always scary and there's fire and blood and stuff," Henry admits, his voice small. "So I thought you were going to be like that."

"Okay," Spencer nods. "And that scared you because you didn't want us to be in pain?"

"Yeah," Henry nods. "I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want you to cry."

"I don't want you to ever leave us," Lilly admits quietly, her voice wavering.

"I guess…" Grace bites her lip, afraid to say it, and Toby shoots her a sympathetic look.

"You guess what, babe?" He prods gently. "What is it?"

"It's just…" She sighs. "We always do stuff together and I started thinking about what it would be like if you guys never came back and it freaked me out because I don't want to not have a Mom and a Dad. I love you guys."

Her confession hits Spencer and Toby _hard_. His wife's speechless, so Toby says, "We are really close, aren't we? It would be really hard. But we love you, too. We love you so, _so_ much. And even if we were gone, that wouldn't change. We would still love you and we would still be with you."

Henry cocks his head to the side. "Where?"

"Right here," Spencer grins, pointing to his heart. "Always."

It's then that Lilly bursts into tears. "Please don't go away, Mommy!"

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," Spencer tells her, her face falling. She reaches for her daughter then, pleading, "Come here. Come on."

Lilly scrambles into her mother's lap and holds on tight. At first, Spencer doesn't know what to say to make her daughter feel better and suddenly, as though someone's flipped a switch inside her, the words come pouring out. "Lilly, I'm healthy. You're healthy. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. But I don't know the future. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or next week or next year. But I do know I'm always going to love you and I'm _never_ going to leave you. I know you're a worrier like me, honey, but that's something you never have to worry about."

To their surprise, Lilly stops crying, sniffles and says, "I love you, Momma."

"I love _you_ , Lilly Pad," Spencer grins and kisses the top of her head. When she locks eyes with her husband, there's an unparalleled awe in his eyes that makes her weak.

"But…" Grace still has a question, still a bit unappeased. "Let's just say… Let's just _say_ something happens. What happens to us?"

"Who's gonna take care of us?" Henry agrees. "Do we have to move out?"

"That's actually something your father and I talked a _lot_ about a long time ago," Spencer explains. "If anything should- God forbid- ever happen to us, we wanted to make sure there would be someone there to take care of you guys. Someone we trusted, someone _you_ trusted, and someone we knew would do a great job raising you."

"So," Grace puts in boldly. "Not Aunt Melissa, then."

Spencer chuckles. "No, definitely not Aunt Melissa."

"So where do we go?" Henry wonders. "To Grandma and Grandpa's?"

"We thought about it," Spencer nods. "But then we thought about how they're a little older and they most likely wouldn't want to start all over and raise children again. And how… Well. I didn't have the _easiest_ childhood and they certainly didn't make it any better."

"And my parents were obviously out of the question," Toby puts in. "Unless you want to grow up as The Great One, Lindsey, and Little H."

"I _hate_ Little H!" Henry whines. "That's so annoying."

"Um, more annoying than The Great One?" Grace asks. "That makes me sound like some evil dictator who killed a bunch of people."

"So who then, Mommy?" Lilly asks, her bright eyes boring into her mother's. "You ran out of family."

Spencer smiles. "That's what I thought, too. But Daddy was quick to remind me we had plenty of other family members I was forgetting."

"Hanna, Emily, Aria," Toby lists. "Caleb, Paige, Uncle Jason. They all love you _so_ much. And we know, without a doubt, that they would do a wonderful job teaching you everything you need to know."

"So we'd be living with them?" Grace asks and when her parents nod she seems pleased. "Okay. That sounds good, I guess."

"As good as it can be under the circumstances?" Toby asks and Grace nods. "Our thought is that we _know_ they'd take great care of you and hopefully they as well as your best friends might help you get over losing us."

She pulls a face and says, "I don't know if we'd ever get over _that_."

"Regardless," Spencer says. "We just wanted to know that you'd stay in the family. And now you know, too."

"So we can stop all of this depressing talk and moping around and questions about death, right?" Toby asks and when his kids nod eagerly, he implores, "Great. Who wants to get some ice cream?"

"Ooh! Me!"

"Yum!"

"Go get your shoes," Spencer chuckles. "Meet you guys in the car."

They scramble down the hall and Spencer lets out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. "That went okay, I think. We got through it at least."

"That was, without a doubt, the hardest conversation we've ever had," Toby shakes his head. "I can't say I enjoyed it."

"You think that was bad?" Spencer asks. "Wait until we have to talk to them about sex."

"They're not having sex." Toby disagrees and Spencer laughs.

" _We_ had sex," She counters. "We had a _lot_ of sex."

"That was us. This is them."

Spencer laughs and says, "Thank you for doing this with me. For marrying me and having children with me and going through this crazy adventure of parenting with me. It's been quite the journey."

"It really has," Toby agrees. "And I couldn't dream of doing it with anyone else."


	10. we know that it's probably magic

**Hi friends! If you're wondering why I've been so rapid fire with this updates lately, it's because I have several of these chapters already written and sitting in my document manager lol. There, my secret is out. Also, because I wrote a post-6B fic that's been taking over my life (seriously, it's all I've been doing for two weeks straight) and I only JUST finished it this morning, but I kind of want it to stand out and be it's own thing, so I need to get the chapters for this one out of the way, first. Make sense? Cool. Cool, cool, cool.**

 **The chapter title comes from "The Rainbow Connection," which is such a beautiful song and SO many people have done renditions of it. Me? I'm a Disney girl, so I'm partial to the Kermit version. :P Thanks for reading and reviewing, if you do, and enjoy!**

* * *

we know that it's probably magic

" _There's children throwing snowballs instead of throwing heads. They're busy building toys and absolutely no one's dead_."

"Grace, I need you to be on your best behavior tonight, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Help Grandma and Grandpa with Lilly? You know our routine."

"Uh-huh."

" _There's frost on every window. Oh, I can't believe my eyes! And in my bones, I feel the warmth that's coming from inside._ "

Toby sighs and glances at his wife, telling her, "I rue the day you ever introduced her to this movie."

Spencer smirks and reaches for the remote, pausing it and earning a squeak of indignation from her daughter. "Hey!"

"Grace Marion, stop, look and listen," Spencer says, gaining the little girl's attention. "Daddy's talking to you."

"Daddy, I can listen to you and Jack Skellington at the same time," Grace says as though it's obvious. "Grandma and Grandpa coming means I can ask them for things for Christmas that Santa can't make and _you_ won't get me."

Toby shakes his head. "You're not getting the pony. Give up. Your grandparents aren't going to buy you one, either."

At that moment, though, he seems to rethink this, and, turning to his wife, he asks, "They won't get her a pony, will they?"

Spencer considers this and replies, "Honestly, I wouldn't put it past them."

Grace pumps her fist in the air and shouts, " _Yes!_ "

Lilly giggles from her spot perched on her mother's hip, because everything her older sister does cracks her up these days, and Spencer joins in after a moment, because there's something about her husband's very real terror that's mildly hilarious. She won't mention that she was eight when her father bought the very first horse she'd ever owned and Grace is nearing her own eighth birthday, now. In fact, it's December 16th and the holidays are in full swing; Grace loves second grade and her Sunday school class is putting on a Nativity play on Christmas Eve, in which she will be playing the Virgin Mary. Lilly, at nineteen months today, has only just recently transitioned from the infant room to the toddler room at daycare, and though it was a rough start, she's finally warmed up to the new environment. It's cold and blustery and winter is in the air, Grace is deeply engrossed in _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ and Spencer and Toby are preparing to embark on a date.

They need it, to be honest; life is always hectic around the holidays, with the shopping, the baking, the decorating and the extra hours at work. It feels almost like they haven't seen each other in weeks. But on top of all of that, the week prior they had learned they were expecting baby number three to their incredible surprise, and they still hadn't quite had the time to sit down and discuss it. So, when Veronica had asked to spend some quality time with the girls, Spencer had been quick to agree and they'd easily set up their night. She's sure they haven't had a date night since their anniversary weekend away in the Poconos and she knows in her heart of hearts the girls will be fine, like always. But she does worry about Lilly, because a year and a half in, their tiny girl had already become wary of anyone who wasn't her parents, and she wasn't comfortable with just anyone looking after her. In fact, Spencer isn't entirely sure her parents make the list.

The doorbell rings and Grace jumps up excitedly, movie temporarily forgotten. "They're here!"

Lilly's squirming in Spencer's arms and the latter asks, "You want to go see Grandma and Grandpa, babe?"

"No, Daddy!" Lilly whines and stretches and reaches for Toby. "My Daddy!"

"Of course," Spencer smirks, shifting the toddler into her husband's arms and shaking her head. "Story of my life."

"Hey, don't be jealous," Toby teases, kissing Lilly's cheek as she holds onto him tightly. "I can't help it if we're best friends."

"This is the second kid of ours to be obsessed with you at this age," Spencer notes. "It's fine. It's not like I did all the work or anything."

Toby chuckles and kisses her cheek, too. "Well, _she_ doesn't realize that."

"She's lucky she's cute, honestly," Spencer replies, a hint of a teasing smile on her face. "Because you two are going to be the death of me."

"Hey, you're still in your trial period, but if you're cool, we'll let you into the club," Toby says and Spencer rolls her eyes. "I've just got to talk it over with the president, but things look good for you."

"The president? And that is?"

Toby nods towards the hallway, where Grace is leading her grandparents into the living room, all smiles. "Who do you think?"

"Hello, hello!" Veronica greets the rest of the family. "How's everyone doing?"

"Good," Spencer finds herself answering, even though she's still feeling disheveled. "I think we're about ready to go."

"Great," Peter nods. "I can't wait to spend time with two of my favorite girls."

"Wait," Grace shakes her head. "I thought I was your very favorite?"

"Grandpa can't pick favorites, honey," Toby tells her gently and Grace crosses her arms over her chest.

"It's true. I can't, Gracie," Peter agrees. "I have a lot of girls, you know. You, Lilly Pad, Vivian, your Mom, your Aunt Melissa… I'm practically surrounded by them."

"Well, you're getting a healthy dose of estrogen," Veronica jokes. "Good for you. Builds character."

"Yeah, but I think I could use _someone_ to break up the pattern," Peter then comments. "I think the ship's sailed on Wren and Melissa, but you guys are having more, right Spence?"

"I-I mean, we've talked about it," Spencer says, feeling like a child hiding the truth all over again. "But not, like, extensively. Lilly's still young."

"Think boy next time, will you?" Peter addresses Toby, whose eyes nearly fall from their sockets. "I love the girls, but a break would be nice."

"Um, so, our numbers are on the kitchen counter," Spencer announces loudly, much to the relief of her husband. "But I mean, you probably have them already. Just in case. And we're just going down the road, so we won't be too far."

"Honey, I think we can handle it," Veronica insists. "We raised two kids of our own. I think we can handle one evening, don't you?"

"Still," Spencer insists. "They both need a bath and there's a plastic container of tub toys in the bathroom closet. Grace can show you where it is. After, Lilly's skin is super sensitive and gets dry if she doesn't have lotion applied immediately after her bath, so if you could do that, please? It's on her changing table."

"And then books and bed," Veronica finishes. "I know. We've got it, alright?"

"And this is Grace's second movie, so preferably no more TV after that. I'm sure she'll find plenty to keep you busy."

"I think so. Seriously, we'll be fine."

"If you need anything, _anything_ , just call me," Spencer says and she doesn't know why she feels like she's leaving her children behind with an inexperienced teenager. "Lilly is super difficult at bedtime, so-"

"Spencer, _relax_ ," Peter cuts in. "We've got it. We'll figure it out."

"Just go," Veronica pushes her. "Enjoy your night. We'll take care of it."

She sighs and nods and as Toby busies Lilly with toys in an effort to make sneaking away easier, Spencer pulls Grace aside and says, in a lower voice, "You'll keep an eye on them for me?"

Grace nods obediently. "Yes."

"And you'll be a good girl? And help them with whatever they need?"

"I always do."

"I know you do," Spencer grins. "You're the best. I love you."

"I love you, too," Grace says. "And you'll come tuck me in when you get home?"

"Of course. Daddy and I'll come kiss you goodnight," Spencer promises and opens her arms just a little. "Hug and a kiss?"

Grace nods fiercely and wraps her arms around her mother's neck in a sensational feeling Spencer could never grow tired of and never hope to replicate. "Be good, okay? We'll be back soon."

"I will."

And once her goodbyes are said to Toby as well, the two pull on their coats and head for the door. But still, Spencer finds herself turning back to add, "If Lilly gets too distraught-"

"Spencer, honestly, enough," Veronica cuts her off. "Seriously, it's going to be fine. Do you freak out this much every time you leave your kids?"

Spencer exhales and just knows Toby's nodding behind her. "I'm just saying, she's an easy baby, but not when she's upset."

"I've had two children and now three grandchildren," Veronica reminds her again. "I know how to calm a crying baby. Relax. Have fun. _Go_."

And so she does.

* * *

There's a pianist in the corner of the room playing _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ and, just as they're seated at their table, snow begins to fall outside. It's all very picturesque and possibly a little too fancy for his liking, but jackets and ties are optional, so he doesn't feel out of place. Plus, this is their favorite restaurant to escape to, sans kids, and he isn't willing to give up on the delicious menu just because sometimes he feels a little uncomfortable when the waiter calls him sir. Their favorite waiter is there tonight and he grins upon the sight of them and knows that any time he does see them, it means they'd somehow managed a night away from their daughters, so he orders them a round of celebratory champagne. They don't tell the waiter about the upcoming arrival of their third child because they aren't telling _anyone_ yet, but when they toast a night out and only Toby sips from his glass, their waiter gets the idea.

"You're pregnant!" He shouts excitedly and the corners of his handlebar twist upwards. "Congratulations! Oh, you must be thrilled!"

"We are," Spencer says after a moment. "Really, thank you."

"This calls for something special," He nods. "Extra bread for the table? No, dessert. I'll order something special. Babies _love_ dessert."

And he races off as Spencer smirks, "Well, I guess Pierre knows. He won't tell our friends and family, right?"

"Slim chance of that," Toby chuckles. "This is harder to keep a secret than I thought."

"It's really not," Spencer disagrees. "It's just whenever alcohol is around and I have to decline, people automatically assume I'm pregnant. But that's so stereotypical, isn't it? What if I just didn't feel like drinking?"

He snorts. "You _always_ feel like drinking."

"That makes me sound like an alcoholic," She frowns. "I'm not that bad. Honestly, I won't even miss it."

"You'll miss it."

"I'll only miss it a little," She amends her statement and he grins. "So… I mean, we've barely talked about it since we found out. Should we figure this whole thing out? We don't have a plan."

"No, we don't, but it's not like we're rookies," Toby tells her. "It's our third one. At this point, we're basically pros."

Spencer laughs. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Really? Come on, we're nailing it," Toby says. "Although, given our track record with girls, I'm slightly worried I'll lose all say in this family. If we have a third, God help me."

Spencer chuckles. "What are you talking about? You have input."

"I do not," He disagrees. "Look, I've always been happy to take the backseat and let you run the show, but now Grace thinks she's in charge and with my luck, Lilly will be the same way."

"I don't think Lilly will be the same way," Spencer disagrees. "And I mean it is _technically_ your fault, anyway. You're the one who donates the chromosome, remember?"

"Yeah. Maybe I should've taken your father's advice and-" He cringes and shakes his head violently. "No, you know what? I can't even joke about it. I'm still internally vomiting."

Spencer laughs. "Yeah, it was mildly uncomfortable."

"Mildly?" Toby exclaims. "It was bad enough when he caught us on the verge of sex, but now he wants to talk about it with us?"

"I think he was trying to make a joke," Spencer offers. "You know, lighten the subject. Pretend he's cool with it or at least show us he is. He's very good at making awkward situations even more awkward."

"Can't we just go back to the time when he pretended not to know about our sex life?"

"We've been together for fifteen years and we have two and a quarter children," Spencer reasons with him. "I think that ship's sailed. He knows we're active and have been for a _while_."

"Oh God," Toby groans suddenly. "This is going to be my life soon, isn't it? With Grace and Lilly?"

"I'm not mentally prepared to think about that yet," Spencer shakes her head. "They're literally babies."

"Neither am I," Toby agrees, but still finds himself saying, "But one day I'm just going to come home and find Grace on the couch making out with some guy."

Spencer gasps. "No, you're not!"

"Yes I am," He nods. "Your father did. Or, I'm going to go to Lilly's boyfriend's loft for a business conversation, but he isn't the one who answers the door. It's Lilly and she's wearing a t-shirt of his and his underwear."

"Stop!" Spencer's shaking her head. "You're literally killing me."

"See those things were fine because it was you and me," Toby points out. "But our girls? They won't do that, right?"

"They're babies," Spencer repeats. "They're literally babies."

Their entrees are served and after only a few bites, Toby notices Spencer's becoming jittery all over again. She checks her phone for messages every so often and when there aren't any to be found, she keeps shooting sidelong glances at the device, as if expecting it to come to life. Amused, Toby asks, "Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I just…" She sighs. "All that talk about Grace and Lilly made me miss them and it's almost bedtime now and… Well, you know how Lilly gets."

"I do," Toby says. "But I'm pretty sure your parents can handle it."

"Are you?" Spencer wonders. "Because I'm not. When she's really, _really_ upset… You know her new thing. And they wouldn't even let me explain it to them."

"Well," Toby shrugs. "If she does it, it'll be a _lovely_ surprise for them."

Spencer smirks. "Serves them right. Trying to force me out of the house and away from my babies."

"Oh I know. To spend time with your husband?" Toby teases. "How dare they."

She shoots him a look. "Oh, stop. You know there is nothing I want more than to spend time with you."

"And that's why you're checking your phone every twenty seconds for an excuse to rescue the girls from your evil parents?"

"Okay, I'm not looking for an excuse, but it worries me that this is the first time I've left them alone with Lilly," Spencer explains. "There's a reason we avoided it for nineteen months and you know it's because her separation anxiety is extreme."

"It is," Toby nods. "You're not wrong."

"Maybe I can have Jason swing by and check on them on his way home."

Toby chuckles. "Jason?"

"I don't know. He's the only one besides you and me that can put her to bed without issue," Spencer shrugs. "Well… with minimal issue."

"Would it make you feel better if you asked?"

She considers this before nodding, already typing out a message to her brother. "Yeah, it would. It really would."

"Is it going to start World War three with your parents?"

"I don't know, it might," Spencer says. "But no offense, Mom and Dad, my kids are more important and Uncle Jason visits more often than you do."

"Ouch," Toby feigns pain, a hand over his heart. "Two blows in one sentence? You don't hold back."

"Yeah, see, I thought I got all the bitterness from my own childhood out already," Spencer says. "Turns out, there's still some left."

The smile on his face melts into a frown, as it always does whenever she mentions her childhood. Truthfully, his hadn't been much better, but at least he'd had _one_ attentive parent, if only for a little while. After a moment, she places her phone back down on the table and says, "Okay, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a little crazy, but he said he'd happily do it."

"He doesn't think you're crazy," Toby disagrees. "Just a mom. A concerned one, at that."

"He's going to give me a full report," Spencer continues. "I think we're good."

"Good," Toby nods. "So you can come back to me now?"

"I'm sorry," She laments quickly. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can worry about your kids. It's fine."

"No, but we really needed this time alone and I'm ruining it."

"You're not ruining _anything_."

"No more kids talk," Spencer promises. "Seriously. Tell me about something else. Anything."

"Well…" He thinks a moment before grinning. "I just got your Christmas present. I'm fairly confident you're going to love it."

"First of all, have I ever _not_ loved anything you've gotten me?" Spencer asks and he has to give her that one. "And second, we agreed on no presents this year, remember? Now you're going to make me look bad."

"Nothing could ever make you look bad," Toby assures her. "And I know we agreed not to get each other anything, but I had to reconsider once you gave me my gift."

She shakes her head. "But I didn't get you anything."

"Wrong," He disagrees. "You told me we're expecting another baby. That's the greatest present I could _ever_ hope to receive."

She grins and then warns, "Careful, Toby. We're talking about the kids again."

"Wow, this is harder than I thought," Toby observes. "Maybe you should pick the subject."

"I'm sure we can find something," Spencer chuckles. "Just you and me for the rest of the night."

"Just the rest of the night?"

"Well," She corrects herself. "The rest of our lives."

He grins, too, and the pianist is now wowing patrons with a beautifully stunning rendition of _The Christmas Song_ as a warm and fuzzy feeling grows in his stomach. And many are enjoying the tune and basking in the joy and spirit of the season, but for Toby, the feeling in the air isn't time sensitive.

After all, every day with Spencer feels like Christmas morning.

* * *

It hadn't _all_ been bad, really. They'd finished watching _Nightmare Before Christmas_ and Grace had explained it to her grandparents as best she could, but the two elder Hastings just couldn't quite grasp _why_ the ghosts and goblins of Halloweentown needed a little Christmas cheer, let alone why a skeleton could bring this to them. They'd had a tea party and used their play kitchen as a restaurant to serve up delectable plastic treats and had even played a few rounds of Candyland. When bath time approached, neither of the girls protested, and instead, Grace pointed out the shelf of bath toys and helped Lilly undress and poured in the bubbles, making identical beards for her and her sister. As Peter helped the seven-year-old dry and dress, Veronica lathered Lilly with some lavender baby lotion and combed out her hair. And then, it was time for bed.

And thus, all the trouble began.

Peter had tried calming the little girl first, but nothing he'd tried had worked. Grace complained from her bedroom down the hall that she couldn't sleep over Lilly's cries, and instead decided to watch the drama play out, offering suggestions that didn't seem to be working. Peter had tried a back rub, playing with the toddler's hair and innumerous bedtime stories, but Lilly's wails turned into screams and she was far from sleeping. Veronica had decided, then, to take matters into her own hands, and so, scooping the baby into her arms, she walked her all around the house, rocked her back in forth for a solid twenty minutes and even tried music, but nothing had prevailed. Lilly continues to bawl her tiny eyes out and scream for her parents, her entire face turning red, and Veronica appears to be at wit's end. And just when they think it can't get any worse, Lilly ceases her screaming for just a moment to cough twice and promptly vomit all over her grandmother.

Needless to say, it's an hour and a half past bedtime and neither of the girls is asleep.

Peter's eyes are wide and Lilly's back to crying again. Veronica's now holding the baby at arm's length, a look of disgust on her face. Only Grace seems unsurprised by the turn of events as Veronica comments, "She just… All over my…"

"Yeah," Grace nods. "She does that."

"She _does_ that?" Peter exclaims as Veronica steps closer to him.

"Yeah," Grace once again confirms. "When she's really upset. Mommy didn't tell you?"

"Would have been nice if she had."

"Will you take her?" Veronica demands in the way that proves she isn't really asking. "I have to clean myself up."

"And do _what_ with her?" Peter asks as Lilly continues to cry. "It's not like I'm any better with her!"

"I have to clean myself up!" Veronica repeats angrily. "I'm covered in _vomit!_ "

And just at that very moment, the doorbell sounds. Grace scrambles up from her place on the floor, shouting in her haste, "I'll get it!"

"It's dark and I don't know anything about this neighborhood," Veronica says distractedly, already wiping at her blouse with a spare towel. "I'm coming with you."

Grace bounds down the stair, Veronica hot on her heels, and reaches for the locks on the door, Peter carrying a wailing Lilly behind them. She swings open the door and her eyes widen with excitement at the visitor before her. " _Uncle Jason!_ "

She throws herself into his arms as he chuckles and steps over the threshold, door closing behind him. "Hey Gracie! How are you, kiddo?"

"Good!" Grace exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes," Veronica echoes. "What _are_ you doing here?"

"Well…" Jason thinks a moment before coming up with, "I could hear Lilly's screams from across town and I wanted to check on her."

"And me too?" Grace asks hopefully and Jason chuckles, ruffling her hair.

"Of course, Gracie. You think I'd come over and not hang out with my favorite girl?" Jason asks and upon receiving a grin from his older niece, he turns towards his youngest one. "Peter, would you mind if I…?"

Peter's still a bit shell-shocked, but he nods quickly, eager for some relief from the bawling toddler. "Sure."

"Hey Pad, what's going on? You throwing a fit?" Jason asks the moment the little girl's in his arms. "That's some nice throw up you've got on your pajamas there. Not a cute way to pick up dudes, Lil. You've got to learn to control your fluids."

Grace giggles and suggests, "Let's read _Guess How Much I Love You_ and _Tumble Bumble_!"

"Okay," Jason agrees. "Go pick them out and meet me up there. I've got to get Puke Queen new pajamas."

Grace nods and races up the stairs as Jason follows at a slower pace, bouncing the baby a little in his arms. She's quieter, now; tears are still evident in her eyes, but her desperate sobs have long since subsided and only tiny hiccups remain. Veronica frowns and turns to her husband, accusing, "Did you invite him here?"

"No. Why would I do that?" Peter shoots back defensively. "I don't even have his number."

"If he's so good with them, maybe _he_ should've watched the girls tonight," Veronica says, indignant. "God, she's our _granddaughter_ , Peter, and we couldn't even put her to bed! What does that say about us?"

"I don't know," Peter sighs. "We're out of practice. Both our girls are in their thirties. We haven't had a baby around in a while."

Veronica purses her lips before ascending the stairs, saying, "Come on. We'd better check on him."

And when they do, they find Lilly fast asleep in her crib and Jason reading to Grace from the rocking chair, her own eyes drooping, and realize perhaps they'd misjudged Jason DiLaurentis after all.

* * *

On the way home from dinner, Spencer sends a text to Jason asking, _Crisis averted?_ and receives a return message of, _Crisis happened before I got there, but they're both asleep now. You're welcome_. Needless to say, she and Toby are both pretty intrigued to learn what had happened in their absence that Jason would describe to be a crisis. As much as the two don't want the night to end and no matter how long they try to prolong it, eventually, they end up back in their driveway, kissing in the car like teenagers and finally trudging up to their doorstep to welcome what is sure to be a few complaints from her parents. They find Peter and Veronica in the living room, each nursing a glass of white wine, and looking moderately miserable.

"Hope you don't mind," Peter starts. "We helped ourselves to some of your alcohol."

"No, that's fine," Spencer shrugs. "It's not like I'm going to be drinking it any time soon."

Toby shoots her a wide-eyed look as she catches what's just slipped from her mouth and Veronica eyes her strangely. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just… It's late," Spencer shrugs. "It's almost eleven. I won't be drinking anything tonight, you know?"

"Well, we had quite a time tonight," Veronica shakes her head and Spencer lets out a sigh of relief. "But I'm sure you already knew that, because you sent in reinforcements."

Spencer freezes. Busted. "Mom, I only did that because I know how difficult Lilly can be and Jason watches them _all_ the time and I thought it might be helpful if-"

"If your father and I were undermined by him?" Veronica cuts her off and Spencer rolls her eyes.

"Get off your high horse. He wasn't trying to undermine you," Spencer says. "He was just here to help and don't tell me he didn't. They're asleep, aren't they?"

"Not without issue," Peter adds. "Lilly threw up all over your mother."

Spencer sighs. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, she does that, now," Toby adds. "It's been really fun for all of us."

"It's still kind of a new thing," Spencer explains. "But she gets so upset sometimes that she'll make herself sick. We're working on it. It's new for us too."

"It's unhealthy."

"You think I don't know that?"

"A little warning would've been nice."

"I _tried_ ," Spencer insists. "All those times I kept turning back? And you kept pushing me away, telling me to go… I _tried_ to tell you. But you refused to listen. So I let you find out for yourself."

"Real nice, Spencer," Peter shakes his head. "Tough love?"

"Yeah," She bites back sarcastically. "Can't imagine _where_ I learned that from."

Veronica frowns. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I think you know _exactly_ what I'm saying," Spencer replies. "You were being just as obstinate and hard-headed as usual, so I gave you a dose of your own medicine."

There's silence for a moment as they let the information set in. After a few tense minutes, Veronica says, "I love those girls very much and I'd like to see them more often."

"I'd like that too," Spencer agrees. "And I appreciate you taking care of them tonight so Toby and I could get some much needed alone time."

"I appreciate it, too," Toby puts in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Peter nods. "We'll do it any time. But next time, I guess, we'll bring a change of clothes."

Some slightly tense laughter is shared as they grab their coats and head for the front door, bidding farewell to their daughter and son-in-law for the evening. When the house is shut tight for the evening and both of their girls are tucked in and kissed goodnight, they retreat to their bedroom and Spencer asks, "Did I handle that like a child?"

"No," Toby chuckles. "Look, your parents are just as stubborn as you are. How else were they going to learn?"

"Still," Spencer sighs. "Revenge isn't classy in the _slightest_ and I feel bad that Lilly had to lose her dinner for me to get it."

"Lilly won't remember a thing about this," Toby assures her. "And, honestly, wasn't it kind of funny?"

"No," Spencer disagrees. "It was super immature."

"But a little funny?"

"No. It was totally avoidable."

"But a _tiny bit_ funny?"

"A tiny bit," She finds herself smiling. "Only because she wouldn't _freaking_ listen to me. I could have told her that was coming like a freaking psychic, but no, no, no! She's got this! She's super Grandma!"

"Well, she may not be perfect, but at least she's around. Do you see _my_ parents jumping at the chance to babysit?" Toby asks and she has to give him that one. "And 'freaking'? Where's your potty mouth, sailor?"

"Ha, ha," Spencer rolls her eyes. "The baby's about the size of a kidney bean right now, but he or she's definitely got ears, right? I've got to start watching my mouth again."

"'Again'," Toby quotes, chuckling. "If you watched your mouth _always_ , we wouldn't need a swear jar and Grace wouldn't be getting frozen yogurt weekly."

"Ugh, it's getting so bad that it's weekly, now?" Spencer asks and Toby nods. "Okay. Shutting up _permanently_. That cannot be good for her health."

"No, it's probably not," Toby agrees. "But you and I both know you could never shut up permanently."

She tosses a throw pillow at him as they climb into bed and he dodges it just in time. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because we've been together for fifteen years," Toby offers. "And you've long since exhausted the warranty."

Spencer laughs. "Oh have I? I can't even upgrade you for the newer model?"

"Hey," He feigns offense. "I am one of a kind, thank you very much."

"Yeah," She agrees. "That you are."

He grins sappily at her, but easily turns the conversation light again. "Honestly, fifteen years is crazy, though. We might as well stick it out, right?"

"Toby Cavanaugh, I can't even joke about that," Spencer tells him. "I don't know what I'd do without you and I definitely can't even _fathom_ parenting with anyone else."

"Hm, what _would_ you do without me?" He considers this for a moment. "Bath time, for one."

"Ugh, I _hate_ bath time," Spencer complains. "More water ends up on the floor than anything else."

"Not when I do it."

" _Especially_ when you do it. What are you talking about?" Spencer disagrees. "That spectacle you and the girls put on every night-"

"Hey, don't knock Showertainment."

"Oh my God, it has a name."

"Of course it does," Toby says. "Every great show has a name."

"I can't handle any of you."

"This is why you're not cool enough to join our club."

Spencer scoffs, indignant, and tosses her pillow his way, too. He isn't quick enough this time and it beans him in the face. She grins. "Serves you right."

"Careful," He warns her, peeling her pillow off of him and stuffing it on top of his own. "You keep using your sleep aids as weapons and you'll have nothing to sleep _on_."

She snuggles closer to him and comes to rest upon his chest. "I think I can figure that out for myself."

He chuckles and cuddles her in closer, kissing the very top of her head. "I love you."

"I love you, too," She murmurs and a yawn escapes her lips as he returns her pillow. She doesn't move from her spot.

"I'm so lucky to have you for even a little while, but fifteen years is…" Toby trails off. "It's everything. You're so important to me."

She nods and yawns again and he glances at her, asking, "Are you falling asleep on me?"

"Mm-hm," She replies. "Goodnight."

"I'm making a sweeping declaration of love."

"Love you, too. Goodnight."

He chuckles. "Fifteen years is nothing. Bring on fifteen more."

And though she's halfway between slumber and consciousness, she smiles dreamily and nods her agreement.


	11. always have my shoulder when you cry

**Hey guys! No this is not an April Fool's joke, I promise. :P Happy April! Hopefully the day (night?) is finding you well. I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy all these random scenarios I keep throwing at you. This one's pretty self-explanatory, but it's one that every family has to go through, sooner or later. I don't know if this is a weird place to say this, but I'm not really sure what the longevity of this story is going to be. I basically started writing these every time I got an idea and I've got five left (including this one) but I've always seen it as a collection of one-shots instead of an actual, full-length story. So basically once I finish posting the five chapters... That's it until I get another idea lol. And I'm sure the interest will come back- it's always come and gone in waves- but right now it's pretty dormant. We'll see! We'll see!**

 **Anyway, the chapter title comes from "Count on Me" by Bruno Mars. Thanks for sticking by me, love bugs. Keep on keeping on. :)**

* * *

you'll always have my shoulder when you cry

Without a doubt, this is the proudest he's ever been.

There are few instances that measure up to the kind of elation and pride he feels at this very moment. It's a beautiful breezy day in mid-June and the entire family is dressed as nicely as can be, seated comfortably in front of the stage as the ceremony takes place. It's hard to believe that they're already here; it seems like only yesterday he was rocking her to sleep and singing her favorite lullaby and now, here she is, about to graduate high school and make her way into the world. Lilly and Henry are seated beside him, trying to come to terms with their sister's departure and how strange their home would feel without her when she leaves for college in the fall. Spencer's on his other side trying to keep it together. She keeps folding and re-folding the program, eyes trained hard on the list of names and the special symbols beside them, signifying any awards and scholarships the graduates had received, and after a while it drives Toby crazy. He reaches out and grasps both of her hands in one of his own, his eyes seeking out hers. She glances up at him and gives him a smile that's not entirely happy and not entirely sad. Bittersweet, he thinks. Bittersweet is the perfect word to describe Grace's high school graduation.

She's class president, co-chair of the prom committee, valedictorian and a member of innumerous sports teams and clubs; her full name is listed in the school's graduate program with a multitude of symbols beside it, signifying her high honors. As she steps onto the stage, her tassel is gold, symbolizing her place on the honor roll, and she wears a medal and a golden cord for having a GPA of 95 or higher and being a member of the National Honors Society, respectively. Toby hadn't even been aware of all the things Grace had accomplished until they were all listed right there in front of him. Her stunning achievements are too many to count and he can't express the surge of pride and elation he feels right about now. She is very much her mother's daughter so he can't say he's surprised, but what does seem to amaze him is that she'd managed all of this and still kept a smile on her face. Throughout all the stress and toil, she'd still remained their positive, carefree daughter and hadn't expressed any inkling of the crippling anxiety that had plagued her mother. It's a miracle, really, and they're all thanking their lucky stars.

Midway through the ceremony, the principal announces her name and to a smattering of applause, she stands and graciously takes the stage. Her speech is poised and perfectly polished and Toby gets it all on tape while beside him, Spencer's snapping photos with shaking hands. They're nervous enough for all three of them, but Grace doesn't seem to be. Her smile is so bright and she speaks easily about growing up and moving on and it brings a tear to both her parents' eyes. She's upbeat and easygoing and talks to the audience like they're all her best friends. And when she's finished, she receives thunderous applause and a standing ovation from her family. Moments later, she and the rest of her graduating class cross the stage and switch their tassels from one side to the other and toss their caps high into the air. She'd done it; she'd gone out, given her all, and completed her high school curriculum. And now, the world is at her fingertips and though bittersweet, her parents are ready for her to conquer that, too.

Her graduation party takes place in their backyard that very same day. They hire a DJ and a bouncy house and a caterer, pulling out all the stops. All their friends, family and neighbors are invited and it's clear this is going to be quite the celebration. As Toby makes his rounds throughout the party, checking the drink supply and bringing food to the DJ and making sure the alcohol stays solely with the adults (that part's a bit more difficult than he'd expected), he tries to keep his mind mainly on the fact that today is a cause for celebration, not despair. They still have two full months with Grace before she sets off for college. At one end of their yard, Henry is racing a few neighbors of theirs from the swing set to the bouncy house, his head thrown back in laughter. Lilly's got her feet dangling in cool waters of their pool, sitting side by side with a friend of hers and Aria's son, Frankie. And Grace is grinning alongside her three best friends, McKenzie, Brynn and Harper, as they discuss what's to come. Toby smiles complacently and wonders how they're already here and where the time has gone.

"That was a beautiful speech she gave today," A voice sounds from beside him and when he turns, Emily is beaming. "You must be so proud of her."

"I am," Toby nods. "It really was amazing."

"I didn't expect anything less," Emily comments. "Had you heard it before?"

"No way," He shakes his head. "She wouldn't let us anywhere near it. She practiced it in front of Lilly, but then swore her to secrecy. She wanted it to be a surprise, I guess."

"And it was."

"It was," Toby nods. "An amazing one."

"Can you believe it?" Emily sighs. "Eighteen. Heading to college. Where did our babies go?"

"I don't know," Toby agrees. "It's kind of crazy, isn't it?"

"Kind of?" Emily exclaims. "I remember coming to visit you in the city when Grace was just a tiny little baby. You'd feed her and rock her to sleep. You loved that little baby."

"Still do. She'll always be my baby," Toby says. "But what about you? I remember going with you to meet the birth mother that one time Paige had the flu. That was the visit you learned the gender and got more than you bargained for."

"Yeah," Emily laughs. "I asked if she was having a boy or a girl and she said both. I almost had a heart attack. What a visit for Paige to miss."

"It ended up working out," Toby shrugs. "You got one of each and the birth mom got to go back to being a teenager."

"I wonder if she ever thinks about them," Emily says. "She'd be like thirty-four now. She might have kids of her own. I wonder if she ever wonders how her twins turned out."

"I'll bet she does. Everyday," Toby says. "And they're great kids. She made the right choice in picking you two."

"Thanks Toby," Emily smiles. "And they are great; all of them are. This must be what it's like to have a normal childhood. Who knew?"

Toby glances over at their children and agrees. Grace, with his eyes and Spencer's personality, conversing easily with Brynn, Emily's timidity but Paige's sense of humor shining through. Blonde, like Hanna, and unbearably witty, like Caleb, McKenzie reaches over Harper to grab a drink, who's artsy and a hopeless romantic, like her mother, but possesses the sharp tongue of her father. Not one of these children, and this of course includes Lilly, Henry, Frankie and Bennett, too, has the same type of personality, and it fascinates Toby that somehow, even though they'd all more or less grown up together, they'd all turned out so different. Nothing makes him happier, though, than the reassuring thought that they had all grown up without the despair and terror found in his and his friends' own childhoods. No, their children had known lives of love and happiness and were all the better for it.

"So how are you doing?" Toby then asks. "With the thought of the twins leaving and all?"

"I don't think it's quite hit me yet," Emily admits. "It's definitely hit Paige. She's micromanaging every little thing, lately. But I don't know. Maybe it won't get to me until we drop them off. That'll be really hard."

"Yeah," Toby nods. "That's going to be difficult."

"What about you?" Emily implores. "You seem okay. How's Spencer?"

"I guess I'm fine for now," Toby considers. "I don't think it's hit me yet, either. Spencer's kind of a mess, but she's pretending she isn't."

Emily chuckles the slightest bit. "That sounds like her."

From the distance, a car locks with a resounding beep and after a moment, a tall young boy heads up their driveway and onto the yard. He smiles politely at Toby and there's still a sense of nerves in his eye even two years later. "Hi, Mr. Cavanaugh. How are you?"

"Doing great, Liam," Toby smiles back, clapping him on the shoulder. "Congratulations on your graduation. I'm glad you could make it."

Liam nods quickly and Toby wonders if he was this anxious, this uneasy around Spencer's parents way back when. He knows he probably was. "Thank you. I wouldn't miss it."

With a final smile, he bounds off towards Grace, who squeals excitedly and kisses him in greeting. Toby's not going to lie- it still makes him cringe inwardly, just a tad. Emily comments, "Wow, so that's the prodigal boyfriend, huh? I don't think I've ever seen him in the flesh."

"Yeah, he's a good kid," Toby says. "A little anxious, but a nice guy."

"Can you blame him?" Emily smirks. "You were the same way around Peter and Veronica."

Well. There's his answer. Eyebrows raised, Toby says, "Okay, but they were terrifying. I'm nice."

"You _are_ nice," Emily chuckles. "But you're still his girlfriend's father. How long have they been dating, anyway?"

"I don't know, like two years?" Toby replies. "Grace is freaking out about it now, though, because she claims long distance relationships never work out. I told her that if that were true, she wouldn't even be here right now."

Emily grins. "That's true. We all managed it. But we were all kind of special cases. No one goes through what we went through with all our significant others and then just drops them."

"You're right," Toby nods. "I guess our situation was different."

Across the lawn, however, something else catches his eye. Spencer's laughing at something Hanna's just said and when she composes herself, she slips from the conversation back into the house for some snack refills. But she's moving less purposefully than usual and her smile seems somewhat forced; she's not as put together as she'd like to seem. And Toby doesn't want to detract from the party and he knows deep down she's having a great time and she's just as proud and excited for their daughter as he is, but he also _knows_ her and he doesn't have to be with her to know that something isn't right. He watches her absentmindedly refill the bowls of chips and salsa and has the overwhelming urge to pull her aside and ask if everything's all right. After a beat, that urge becomes unbearable and impossible to ignore.

"Em, I'll be right back," Toby promises. "I'm going to go check on Spencer. That's the third time she's refilled the bowl of salsa and I don't even think anyone's eating it."

Emily chuckles. "That's okay. I just saw Henry and Bennett head for the bouncy castle and I need to remind Ben that your son isn't a ragdoll before he breaks another one of his limbs."

Toby smiles at the memory. "That was years ago and to be honest, it was mostly Henry's fault. We've forgiven you if you'll forgive us."

"Still," Emily shrugs. "Your son's almost ten and mine's eighteen. I think, sometimes, they think they're the same age."

Toby laughs and allows her to set off as he heads up to the deck in search of his wife. She's folding and rearranging paper napkins when he approaches and the smile she shoots him is only slightly genuine. "Hey. I haven't seen you all party. Where have you been?"

"Here and there," He comments nonchalantly, and then touches her elbow, bringing her eyes to his. "Are you okay?"

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be?" Spencer wonders. "My daughter graduated high school today and I can't even express how happy I am for her."

"I know you are," Toby nods. "You just seem a little… off."

"Yeah, well," She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and lowers her voice to say, "I'm not going to lose it in front of all my friends and family."

"Then come here," Toby beckons, slipping his hand into hers and leading her to the sliding glass door. "Let's take a breather somewhere a little more private."

They step into the silence of the kitchen, watching the buzz of the party from afar. Toby's eyes are searching her face for answers, but they needn't look too far; she offers them willingly. "I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm a little emotional today."

"That's understandable," Toby sympathizes, rubbing her shoulders. "Your first baby graduated high school. It's happy and it's sad at the same time."

She nods and her eyes fill with tears, but she shakes her head, blinking them away. "God, I was never a crier! Being a mother has made me such a sap."

He laughs. "No, it makes you _human_. It's okay to be emotional. Aria's been a weeping mess since we left the school."

Spencer's quiet a moment before asking, "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"I'm only telling you because I have to tell _someone_ and you've never judged me for anything my entire life," Spencer sighs. "I know it's irrational but… Our kids are eighteen, twelve and almost ten. Our oldest just graduated high school and is leaving for college in August. And I just… I suddenly feel like I'm losing them. Like they're all growing up _so_ fast and they're going to leave and not need me anymore. And that scares me. A _lot_."

"Oh Spence," He frowns and reaches forward, collecting her in an embrace. She clings to him like he's her lifeline. "It's not irrational, I promise you."

"It's not?" She mumbles, her face pressed against his chest.

"It's not," He confirms. "As they're getting older and learning to do things they couldn't before and becoming more self-sufficient, it's natural for you to feel like that, like they don't need you. But take it from someone who lost their mother very early in life- they will _always_ need you. That will never change."

She glances up, meets his eyes. "It won't?"

"It won't," Toby shakes his head. "It's been almost thirty years since I lost mine and I still think about her every day. I still wish I could talk to her. I still _need_ her. And even when our kids are married and have their own kids, they'll still need you."

Spencer's hanging on his every word. "They will?"

"Of course," He assures her. "I know how much you love them. _They_ know how much you love them. And they love you just as much. So yeah, they're going to get older and they're going to move out and move on with their lives and things are going to change. They're not always going to be living here, fighting over who gets to pick the movie for family movie nights or eating pancakes on Saturday mornings. But they'll always need you; whether it's for advice or for a hug or just to hear your voice. They always will. And so will I."

This is what prompts a day's worth of repressed emotion from her eyes. Tears begin to roll down her cheeks and Toby's immediately apologetic, wiping the salty liquid from her face. "Babe, no, don't cry. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

"Well, that's just how talented you are, isn't it?" She sniffles and brings him in for another hug. "I hope you never feel like this. I need you so goddamned much, Toby Cavanaugh, it's not even funny."

Despite the grim nature, he grins. "I love you."

"I love you, too," She says, pulling herself together and placing a kiss upon his lips. "Thank you."

"All better?" He asks and she nods.

"Moment of weakness. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," He waves it off. "But let's go celebrate now, yeah? We've got two more months with Grace before she leaves. We'll be sad then."

"Yeah, you're right," Spencer shakes her head, a real smile coming across her lips, this time. "There's no time to wallow in self-pity. This is about Grace's accomplishments. Let's party."

"That's the spirit," Toby says. "Two months is _months_ from now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

It turns out, two months fly by when there's something at the end of that time frame that you're dreading.

Perhaps dreading is a bit of an overstatement, but it isn't like Spencer is particularly anxious to see her daughter leave. She's so, so incredibly proud of her and of all her endeavors and she truly cannot wait for Grace to have all the experiences in college that she'd had. College truly is a life-changing experience. It's a chance for her to grow as a person, to find out who she really is, to try new things and learn all the different facets of her personality. Spencer's time in college was easily the best four years of her life and she knows Grace will have a great time and learn a plethora of new things and be challenged in a way she's never been before. But that doesn't make the goodbye any easier. She has absolutely no idea what she's going to do without her oldest daughter at home. Likely, from here on out, their home would be incomplete.

The summer passes by much too quickly for all their liking. Grace works at a summer camp wrangling six-year-olds and Lilly destroys her summer reading list, finishing book after book, and Henry goes to sleep away camp for the first time and is gone for two weeks in July. He comes back with the knowledge of how to start a fire, how to shoot an arrow and how to identify poison ivy. The entire family takes a much-needed vacation to Ocean City the first week of August and they spend the entire week bathing in the ocean and building sandcastles and cracking open crabs with their bare hands for dinner. When they return, Grace completes her shopping lists for college and begins to box up her things and pores Google for innovative and efficient dorm ideas, ready for the big move. She connects with her prospective roommate through social media, receives her Welcome Weekend packet and agenda in the mail and soon enough, it's the night before she leaves.

She'll be attending Dartmouth much to her family's amazement and her cousin's chagrin. It's something that Spencer's always been uneasy about- her competition with Vivian- and something she, unfortunately, has firsthand experience with. They're two completely different girls with two completely different personalities, and yet they still try to do everything in their power to one-up the other. What's worse is that Spencer believes her own parents learned nothing from raising her and Melissa and are actually fueling and encouraging the competition between their granddaughters. It irritates her to no end. She personally doesn't care _where_ Grace goes to school so long as she's happy where she is. And so far, it looks like she's going to be; when they'd visited for Accepted Student's Day, Grace's face had completely lit up and she'd been in her element. It's a little over four hours from their door to the campus, which is far enough away that she has room for independence and close enough that she can always come home for long weekends. Grace hadn't exactly been excited about the coming home part; Spencer guesses it's mainly a perk for her and Toby.

Currently, they're dining at a family favorite restaurant in celebration of Grace's upcoming departure. Toby's just ordered dessert for the entire table to share and Grace is giggling hysterically at something Henry's just said. Truth be told, as the waitress sets down their eighteen-layer chocolate cake, Spencer's attention is on her middle child, who's sitting calmly and quietly, her eyes downcast. Unlike her other two children, who are quick to outwardly express their happiness and disdain alike, Lilly subdues many of her emotions and is the most difficult to read. She's selfless and humble and is always quick to allow her own feelings take the backseat whenever her siblings or friends are involved. It's hard to tell where her head is right now as she accepts the fork her father's handed her wordlessly. Spencer takes one too and vows to keep an eye trained on her.

"Before we all dig in, I just want to propose a toast," Toby announces first and Grace rolls her eyes playfully. "To Grace!"

"A toast? With cake?" Grace teases. "Shouldn't we be doing this with champagne or something?"

"None of you are legal," Toby shakes his head. "So I don't think so."

"In eight more years, I can drink," Henry pipes up. "We're getting closer."

"Uh, try eleven." Grace says. "Math isn't your strong point, huh?"

"That's what I meant!" Henry replies. "What can I do when I'm eighteen?"

"Order stuff online. Go to college. Vote," Grace lists. "All the stuff I'm doing."

"Boring," Henry comments. "Besides, didn't you have a drink before, Grace?"

"What are you talking about?" Grace covers nonchalantly, shooting her brother a death glare. "I've never had a drink in my life."

"No, at Kenzie's party, I remember," Henry continues. "You told me at her party- _ow!_ "

A swift elbow to the ribs shuts him right up. Grace smiles complacently and urges, "Dad, you were saying?"

"Right," Toby nods. "I was saying-"

"Your physical violence was unnecessary," Spencer tells her daughter. "You're a terrible liar. I've known you were drinking at McKenzie's party for months now."

Grace sighs. "How?"

"Does it matter?" Spencer asks. "Look, I'm not naïve enough to think kids your age don't drink and believe me, they _certainly_ do in college, but you know underage drinking is dangerous and I need you to promise me you'll be responsible."

"Mom, seriously? Okay, first of all, we were drinking _wine coolers_. It's not like we were downing shots of tequila or funneling beer," Grace explains. "And second, it was a sleepover so we didn't get behind the wheel of a car and _third_ , don't tell me you never drank before you were legal. There is absolutely no _way_ that's true."

Spencer purses her lips before turning to her husband. "Toby, you were saying?"

"I was _saying_ -"

"What does alcohol even taste like?" Henry asks, curiosity piqued and Grace shrugs.

"Not great," She replies. "Kind of like soda, but less carbonated and more burning."

"Sounds gross," Henry says. "Why do people even like it?"

"I guess you get used to it after a while."

"I cannot believe we're having this conversation with a ten-year-old," Spencer says. "Guys, I'm pretty sure your father was going to say something very nice about Grace. Can we let him say it, please?"

"Thank you," Toby says finally. "But, to be honest, I don't really remember what I was going to say now, so eat some cake and good luck, Grace."

Grace giggles profusely, digging in for the first bite. "Thanks, Dad."

As the others reach forward and snag themselves a bite, Spencer's attention is once again pulled to Lilly, who sets her fork down on the table and glances back at her lap. Swallowing a bit of cake, Spencer asks, "Lil? You alright?"

Her eyes snap to her mother's and widen slightly, but she nods quickly. Spencer's not buying it. "Are you sure? You barely ate any dinner and now you don't want dessert either? It's your favorite."

Lilly shrugs. "I'm not really hungry."

Concerned, she then probes, "Are you feeling okay?"

A small nod is her response once more and Grace adds, "Is that your final answer, Lilly? Because you know how Henry is. If you don't get a forkful in now, you never will."

"Hey! Not fair!" Henry shouts. "You've already eaten more than me!"

"I have not!"

"Are you really arguing about cake?" Toby chuckles. "Do you two have to argue about everything?"

"That's how we keep things interesting," Grace shrugs, another bite of cake on the way to her mouth. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

Henry nods matter-of-factly. "What she said."

From there, conversation turns to the many things Grace is anxiously anticipating when her brand new college career begins as they finish up their dessert and pay the check. The rest of the night is a bit of a blur, as bedtime always has been, right from the start, but eventually, all is quiet and settled in their household. The air conditioning clicks on and hums into the serene evening and Toby's on one end of the couch, trying to find the quickest route to Hanover for the next day. It becomes very clear to Spencer that this is the last night until Thanksgiving, most likely, that all five of them will be sleeping under one roof. And she knows better than most that once you leave your childhood home, something about it will always feel foreign and it will never quite feel like _home_ again. She feels her anxiety begin to rise again and makes a spur of the moment decision.

Toby doesn't even glance up as Spencer uncorks a bottle of cabernet, but he smirks all the same. "Were you inspired by our dinner conversation?"

"Hey, our kid's moving to _college_ tomorrow, Tobes," She says, pouring them each a glass. "We're drinking."

"Fair enough," He replies and clinks his together with hers as they take identical sips. "Remember when we used to think wine was disgusting?"

"Yeah," She grins. "That was before we learned how to be classy."

He chuckles. "I guess you could say that."

Sipping a bit more slowly, she finds herself asking, "Do you think she'll be alright?"

"Grace? Are you kidding?" Toby implores. "Of course she'll be alright. Of the three of them, Grace is the one I never worry about."

"Really?" Spencer asks. "I worry about all of them."

"Of course you do. You're their mother. That's your job," He teases and she swats at him. "But honestly. This is the girl who won an eight a.m. tennis match and then performed in _two_ shows of _Bye, Bye Birdie_ in the same day. And after she got home from the eight o'clock show she proceeded to remove her stage makeup and study for an econ test."

"Which she got a ninety-seven on," Spencer adds and then shakes her head. "Our daughter makes _me_ look like an amateur."

Toby grins. "She'll be fine. No, she doesn't handle stress well, but she doesn't get stressed often. And she's proven time and time again how good she is at multitasking. She makes friends pretty easily, she's a positive thinker, she's a mini Einstein like her mother… I don't _think_ she'll be all right. I know she will."

Spencer sighs and after a minute, asks, "Will we?"

Toby matches her sigh almost instantly. "Jury's still out on that one."

"I'm going to miss her so much," Spencer admits and Toby nods his agreement, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "It's going to be so weird being here without her. Do you think she'll be homesick?"

Toby considers this for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe a little, at first. Were you?"

"Not really," Spencer shakes her head. "I missed people, not places. I missed the girls _a lot_. I used to see them everyday and then I didn't and I had a hard time adjusting to that. I missed my Mom and, on occasion, my Dad. I missed you. I thought I'd go out of my mind from missing you so much."

"Yeah, been there," Toby says. "Good thing we never have to go through that again."

She nods and then probes, "Everything's going to be so different now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," He affirms. "But we knew it was coming from the beginning. And we've got to do this twice more, remember. We might as well try and get used to it."

She takes his words to heart as they finish their glasses and head into the kitchen, turning off lights and preparing the house for their slumber. Toby offers to stay back a bit and wash them and instead, Spencer softly pads up the stairs to check on their children, who'd gone to bed hours ago. Henry's first and his room is a mess- something she'll have to beg him to rectify in the morning- but he's passed out cold, on his stomach, a cheek against the pillow. He's got an arm hanging off the side of the bed and half of his comforter is on the floor, which makes his mother chuckle as she bends down to tuck it back in place more firmly around him. She presses a kiss to his forehead next and whispers her love before exiting and quietly shutting the door behind her. Lilly's next, but as she approaches her daughter's bedroom door, concern knits her eyebrows together and she can feel her heart clench painfully in her chest. For instead of matching her brother's silence, Lilly's bedroom is echoing despaired sniffles and right off the bat, Spencer knows she's crying.

Pushing the door open, her suspicions are confirmed. Lilly's curled up in the fetal position, tears streaming from her eyes as she frantically wipes them away. She makes no motion to indicate she's heard her mother enter, but as Spencer sits down on the bed beside her, her big, watery brown eyes glance toward her mother's. Laying a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder, Spencer asks, "Lilly, what's wrong? Are you sick? Does something hurt?"

Biting her lip, the young girl shakes her head, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest as more tears spill from her eyes. It physically pains her, as it always does, to see her children in despair. Even gentler still, Spencer prods, "Then what, honey? What's wrong?"

Her voice wavers when she finally admits, "I don't want Grace to go."

She should have known; honestly, this should have been the very first thing to cross her mind. Her two daughters had been very close from the beginning; Grace had brought ultrasound pictures of her sister-to-be for show and tell for three weeks in a row and once, in second grade, for an essay assignment on their favorite hero, Lilly had written about her older sister. For six years, Grace had known a life as an only child, but Lilly had never known a life without her older sister, and now, at this very prospect, she's panicking. For many years, Grace had been Lilly's voice when she'd been too shy or too overwhelmed to speak for herself and Spencer had watched their sisterly blond blossom with hardly a disagreement or argument between them. No wonder Lilly's imploding now. She feels as though she's losing her other half.

"Come here, sweetheart," Spencer beckons and holds her daughter in a tight embrace as Lilly clings to her, full of despair. "Why didn't you tell me you were this upset?"

Lilly shrugs and offers, "I didn't want to make you sad."

Honestly, this doesn't surprise her. She holds her even tighter in response. "I know this is going to be hard for you, Lilly. It's going to be hard for all of us. But we'll get through it together, right?"

She nods against her mother's chest, but the tears keep falling. Spencer wracks her brain trying to come up with something that might help. "Grace loves you _so_ much and she's going to miss you just as much as you're going to miss her. You're the best sister she could ever ask for and I know she thinks so too."

"But Mom," Lilly cries. "She's not just my sister. She's my best friend."

This, of course, breaks Spencer's heart and prompts tears from her own eyes. She can't handle this. So now they're both crying messes, mother and daughter clinging to one another for support, and Spencer's thinking two things- that she can't relate to how Lilly feels _at all_ , because she and Melissa have never been close, and that Toby is so much better at this comfort thing than she is. As if on cue, he appears in the doorway, and his eyes widen immediately at the sight before him. "Whoa. What did I miss?"

"We're upset about Grace leaving," Spencer says. "We need your help."

"I don't know how I'm going to help," Toby replies, sitting down on the opposite side of Lilly and wrapping both of his girls up into one embrace. "I'm sad, too. We all are. But she isn't leaving forever. She isn't moving away. She's just going to college. And yeah, it's going to be an adjustment, but we're still going to see her and we'll still talk to her everyday."

"Can we FaceTime with her?" Lilly asks, hopeful, and Toby nods, pulling back just a bit.

"Of course we can," He assures her. "We'll call, we'll FaceTime, we'll text… And we can go and visit her and she can come home for long weekends. We're all going to get through this."

Lilly ponders this a moment before saying, "It'll be hard, though."

"I know it will," Toby nods. "It's going to take some getting used to. But we can do it like we do everything- together. Right?"

Lilly nods, too. "Right."

He wraps his arms around his youngest daughter again and his eyes connect with Spencer's over her shoulder. She smiles warmly at him and now it's one hundred percent certain. He _is_ light years better than her at this. Eventually, her tears subside and they tuck her into bed as they had when she was very little, folding down the sheets and comforter and each kissing one of her cheeks. They hug her tightly once more and tell her how they love her dearly, and last but not least, make their way to Grace's room. She's sound asleep, on her back, the crook of her elbow thrown over her eyes, but as they kiss her goodnight, they notice a silvery trail of tearstains painting the contours of her cheeks. With her thumbs, Spencer reaches to wipe them away and discovers they're still fresh. Easily, Grace had likely suffered in despair mere moments ago before falling into slumber.

And in this, Spencer and Toby learn that their girls are much more alike than they'd previously thought.

* * *

Grace buzzes excitedly the entire drive to Hanover, comments on every last detail of the dorm she's been assigned, and squeals with glee upon meeting her roommate in person, declaring they'll be the best of friends. She pores over a map of the campus and jokes she'll get terribly lost, reads through her class schedule and pokes fun at a couple of her professors' names, and points out the dining hall closest to her room, wondering aloud if the food is worth the hefty price of the meal plan. She titters about her side of the dorm room elatedly, arranges and rearranges the pillows on her bed, connects to the school's Wi-Fi, and takes extra care to hang all her clothes properly. Everything about the events of Welcome Weekend have her aglow. Everything, that is, except for the big goodbye.

It comes sooner than they'd like and Grace walks the family out to the car, suddenly quiet, shuffling her feet. Henry breaks the silence first by throwing his arms around his sister and declaring, "I'm giving you three weeks, Grace, and then I'm moving into your room."

It brings a smile to her face and she replies, "You better not."

"I'm gonna turn it into a clubhouse," Henry decides. "I'm thinking about putting monkey bars and a slide in there."

She pulls back to look him in the eye, incredulous. "That would _never_ fit."

"Never say never," Henry shrugs and then grows a bit more somber. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Grace sighs. "I love you, Hen."

Henry frowns and says, "I love you, too."

Toby's next and he has tears in his eyes as he collects his daughter in a bone-crushing hug. "You're going to have a great time here. And you're going to learn a lot. I know you will."

Grace nods rapidly, tears falling from her own eyes and suddenly unstoppable. "I know."

"And if you ever want to come home," Toby promises. "For the night or for the weekend or forever, you call me and I will be out here as soon as I can. Okay?"

"Okay," She cries a bit harder and he holds her closer in response.

"I love you, monkey," He tells her. "Be safe, okay?"

"I love you too, Dad," Grace sniffles and desperately tries to keep her tears at bay, failing as she pulls away to embrace her mother.

Remarkably, Spencer's managed to hold herself together until right about now. Turns out, saying goodbye to her daughter, if only for a short period of time, is something she never could have mentally prepared for. "Gracie, I am so proud of you. You're going to have the time of your life. But I'm going to miss you _so_ much."

Grace merely nods, saying, "I love you."

"I love _you_ , babe," Spencer says and kisses her crown twice. "If you need anything, anything at all, call or text me. Do you understand?"

"Uh huh," Grace nods again, and wipes at her face uselessly.

Lilly's already bawling by the time her sister pulls her in for a hug. Grace utters, "Bye Lilly Pad."

"Bye Grace Face," Lilly says. "FaceTime me every single day?"

Grace nods her promise. "Of course."

And with one last hug and a few dozen tears, Grace turns and heads back into the dormitory. On the way back, she glances over her shoulder and waves, each member of her family returning it genuinely. They watch her retreating back until it's out of sight and then, with nothing else left to do, they climb into the car to start their journey home. It feels just as empty and incomplete as Spencer's always expected and it tugs at each of her heartstrings. Glancing at the backseat, she notes Henry's got a forehead up against the cool glass window, a frown on his ultimately unhappy face. Lilly's chin's in her hand and every so often, her other meets her cheek to wipe away a few stray tears. Toby's got both eyes on the road, but as he pulls onto the highway, he shoots her a look saying everything he can't.

She smiles appreciatively and covers one of his hands with hers. "I know."

The open road greets them in moments and this is much harder than she'd thought it would be. Somehow, they'll make it through together.


	12. happiness is

**Hey are you sick of me yet? LOL. I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to get these out there before I forget. I honestly don't even know what this chapter is, besides a mess and Halloween in April haha. Hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. I needed a nice, positive, happy chapter to distract me from the fact that I said goodbye to two of my favorite shows today at Disney, forever. :( Out with the old, in with the new, I guess...  
**

 **The chapter title comes from the song "Happiness" from the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. It makes sense in the third part of the story haha. Thanks for reading and see you soon (probably tomorrow, lbr).**

* * *

happiness is…

Spencer's at the miniscule kitchen table, sewing like her life depends on it, and Toby's on the couch, staying out of her way. Her apartment barely fits the two of them and he has no idea how she shares it with three other girls, but it is New York City, so a smaller size is to be expected, and she is a senior in college; they certainly don't make enough to rent a brownstone. They live on the very top floor of the building and when Toby peers down at the street below, all the people look like tiny little ants, scurrying from place to place, without a care in the world. Life has definitely been different with Spencer in college; the first year, he visited every weekend and when she came home for holidays, she spent so much time with him at his loft that her parents were barely aware of her presence at all. They cooled off just a little as the years went on, but it didn't make the distance any easier. As business picked up, for Toby, and schoolwork piled on, for Spencer, they were able to visit each other less and less and instead, left to grapple with the long distance.

So, she's halfway through her final year of undergrad and he knows she's planning on grad school, so they'll have to sit down and talk this distance thing over. They've resigned themselves to only visiting on holidays, for they're too busy any other time, and that is the reason for this trip. Today is Halloween and she'd invited him down for the party she and her roommates are throwing on the rooftop that very evening. He isn't a party person, but he also wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to spend time with her, so here he is. Since he's been here, he hasn't met a single one of her roommates and he isn't totally convinced they exist. From Spencer's description, one is a social recluse who sits in her room and barely goes to class, one is an architecture major who is _always_ in the studio, and the other has a lot of very loud sex. And Spencer had laughed to the point of tears when Toby offered to make up for that in spades as a form of payback… and agreed. They've been together a long time. This is what amuses them.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you," Spencer says over the whirring of the sewing machine. "I got into NYU."

"For grad school?" He asks and when she nods, he grins proudly. "That's so great! Congratulations! Are you going to accept?"

"I don't think so," She shakes her head. "It was kind of like my safety, you know? I'm still waiting to here back from the holy trinity- Harvard, Princeton and Yale."

"Sure, sure," Toby teases. "Why settle for measly old NYU, then?"

"Look, I'm not naïve. I know Harvard isn't going to give me the time of day," Spencer smirks. "But one of the others _definitely_ will. At least I have to believe that. It's better for my anxiety."

"You'll get in," Toby shakes his head. "I can't imagine why you wouldn't. But we should probably talk about this whole distance thing. It isn't getting any easier."

"Five years, now, and you're ready to get rid of me?" She jokes, adjusting the fabric.

"No," He rolls his eyes. "Of course not. But you'll be in New Jersey or Massachusetts or Connecticut and where will I be? Still in Rosewood, warding off the double takes and the whispers and the Spencer question."

She eyes him. "The Spencer question?"

"'Oh, Toby, you're still here? We thought you would have left town when Spencer did'," He mimics. "'Oh, Toby, she dumped you, didn't she? Come on you _had_ to have seen that coming.' 'Oh, Toby, why the long face? You know she's better off without you'."

Her hands clench into fists. "People don't actually say that."

"The more ballsy people do," He nods. "Look, you know I'm so, _so_ proud of you and that I'll support whatever decision you make, education and career-wise. But only seeing you on holidays and our anniversary? It isn't enough."

"I know," Spencer laments. "Believe me, I know. I hate it, too. And I don't know where I'm going to end up next year, but… Maybe you can come with me."

He eyes her, asking, "Really?"

"Yes. Toby, please, come with me," She nods excitedly. "We can get an apartment and I'll go to school and you can be a carpenter _anywhere_. We can do this. I know we can."

" _I_ don't know that," Toby replies warily. "I barely make enough to support myself in _Rosewood_ , let alone some of those big college towns. I was just thinking we set up a visit schedule a little more elaborate than the one we have now."

She bites her lip, a little disappointed. "Well. I guess that works too."

"Look, it's not that I don't want to come with you. Believe me, you and I under one roof? Waking up to you everyday? Spence, that's the dream," He tells her honestly and she smiles just a bit. "I just don't know if we can feasibly do that yet. Let's see where this year goes. Let's see where you're accepted and how heavy your course load is. And let's see each other more often. Because I love you very much and three times a year plus summer break isn't really enough for me."

She pushes back from the table, sewing momentarily forgotten, and crosses the room, draping herself across his lap and kissing him lovingly. "I love _you_ very much. And your unconditional support is what's gotten me through these past few years."

And he loses himself momentarily in the feel of her lips against his, her hands in his hair, until something else catches his attention. He pauses and she does too, pulling back just slightly to say, a bit frustrated, "Don't tell me after all this time you still keep your eyes open."

"No," He smirks and shakes his head softly. "Look, I don't know how to tell you this, but it's snowing."

"What?" She exclaims, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and climbing off his lap, hurrying to the window. "Son of a bitch. This cannot be happening."

He stands, too, and asks, "Well, what did you expect? It's like thirty degrees outside. A little cold for October, in my opinion, but-"

"Don't get any ideas," Spencer shakes her head, crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the sewing machine. "Party's still on, snow or shine."

"Really?" Toby asks incredulously. "Even if we have to shovel?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not going to stick."

He chuckles just as there's a knock on the door. "Oh, has one of your roommates finally returned?"

"No, they all have keys," Spencer replies, mildly annoyed. "It's probably the girls. Can you get it?"

"The girls?" Toby wonders, standing and heading for the door.

"Yeah," She smiles at him as if he's in on some big secret. "I invited them, too."

He should've known this was going to be some big production. Spencer never half-asses anything, and Halloween is no exception. The apartment becomes even tinier when the other three girls arrive and even more so when Toby notes that each of the girls has brought their respective paramours of choice. This, of course, causes nothing but drama. Aria and Ezra are back on again, which Spencer is less than thrilled with; Toby can tell by the way she greets Aria with a gritted-teeth smile and Ezra with a polite, albeit forced, handshake. Hanna and Caleb are fighting _hardcore_ , bickering in hushed whispers one second and then fiercely ignoring each other the next, and Emily's brought Paige, too, and no one seems to quite understand their status. Spencer glances over at Toby to gauge his reaction to all this and he can tell from that one look that they're thinking the same thing. _Why are we the only ones still intact?_

They aren't going to let it ruin the evening, though. As the sun sets, they head up to the rooftop to set up the bar, a few balloons and the music that would serve as the party's backdrop. Again, he's not a party person, so when various classmates and colleagues of Spencer's begin to arrive, that familiar feeling of anxiety and dread arrives for him, too. His costume is super itchy, too; he and Spencer are dressed as Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara, which is ironic considering they're portraying a doomed romance and yet, they seem to be the only couple still on steady ground. He adjusts his faux moustache- it isn't real; there hadn't been enough time- and goes to fix himself a drink and unfortunately for him, Ezra's there, too. He's dressed as F. Scott Fitzgerald, because he _always_ goes as F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Aria is, Toby notes, nowhere to be found.

"Toby," Ezra nods. "How are you? How's life treating you?"

"Uh… Fine, I guess," He shrugs. He's not once had a conversation with this man. "How are you?"

"Better, definitely better," He nods. "We've been having some communication issues but I think we're going to make it work this time."

Toby asks, "You and Aria?"

"Yeah. When it's true love, you've got to fight tooth and nail for it," Ezra says. "You know?"

Truthfully, Toby doesn't. He and Spencer fight on occasion, but it's never about matters directly concerning their relationship. Still, he nods, and looks for an escape from this conversation. "Well, I, uh… I hope it works out. For both of you."

"I'm pretty confident that it will," Ezra replies and takes a sip of his own drink before cringing and asking, "What is this garbage?"

It takes Toby a full minute to understand he's talking about the music playing, not the drink. "Oh, I don't know. Halloween music's hard to find, I guess."

"I think it's from the _Hocus Pocus_ soundtrack," Caleb chimes in from the other side of the table and upon listening closer, Toby's pretty sure his friend is right.

 _I put a spell on you and now you're gone! I put a spell on you and it was strong! Your wretched little lives have all been cursed. 'Cause of all the witches working, I'm the worst! I put a spell on you and now you're mine!_

"Oh," Ezra frowns. "It's not something I buy into- the presentation of witches as entertainment. The Salem Witch Trials were a really terrifying time in American history and the literature on it alone is enough."

"Dude," Caleb disagrees. " _Hocus Pocus_ is a great movie."

Ezra shrugs and busies himself with another group of students as Caleb grumbles, "That guy is _such_ a drag. Tell me we aren't going to have to deal with him the rest of our lives."

"Well, that would be up to Aria," Toby replies and eyes his friend's costume. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the Mad Hatter," Caleb says as though it's obvious and then frowns. "Okay, I know, it's shit. We improvised last minute."

"And Hanna's Alice," Toby nods his understanding, spotting the girls just a few feet away. "I guess that makes sense."

"Look, I whacked out my hair as much as I could and wore the biggest hat I could find," Caleb defends. "But not all of us have petticoats and fake moustaches to spare, Toby."

Toby chuckles. "Hey, don't knock it 'till you've tried it. It's twenty-eight degrees out here and I'm the only one who's warm."

"I don't know. Mike and Sully seem to be pretty warm," He jokes, referring to Paige and Emily's costumes that were even more half-assed than his. "Can I ask a question, though? Where did Spencer get Vivien Leigh's actual dress from the movie?"

Smirking, Toby tells him, "She made it herself; put the finishing touches on this morning. She has to be authentic, right?"

"Why?"

"Because it's Spencer."

"Ah. Sure, okay."

"Can I ask _you_ a question, then?" Toby implores. "What's up with you and Hanna?"

"Oh," Caleb nods as if he's been expecting this all along. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"You what?" Toby exclaims in surprise. "But you just… You guys have been at each other's throats all night."

"Yeah," He agrees. "I took this job in Philly and she's _pissed_ with me about it. Apparently, she isn't ready to uproot her life and move out there with me. I told her that it was fine, that we can do long distance, and now she thinks that's my excuse to slowly distance myself from her so we'll break up."

Toby deadpans, "And marriage is the answer to that?"

"No," Caleb shakes his head. "But I love her. And yeah, this is something we need to talk over, but I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I don't care if that's here or in Philly or Rosewood. We're still trying to figure out where we're going, but we might as well go together, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Toby says. "It just seems out of the blue."

After another drink or so, Caleb grows anxious and impatient and says, "I'm going to do it now."

"Now?" Toby's eyes are wide. "Right now?"

"No time like the present, huh?" He grins and heads for the middle of the rooftop.

The music dims and the crowd quiets and moments later, the Mad Hatter kneels down in the inch or two of snow and asks Alice to marry him. She shrieks and squeals and says yes. As they're fiercely making out before him, Toby glances to his left and notes Aria is whispering furiously to Ezra, tears in her eyes. Paige and Emily are in the corner, sitting upon iron wrought chairs and not dancing, not talking, barely making any contact at all. Toby's never been more confused in his life. From behind, he hears the clinking of glass and looks back to find Spencer pouring a mixture of different liquors into her plastic cup. He eyes her amusedly and she stammers, "I need… I need more alcohol."

"Ah yes, well," Toby regards her. "I don't think it's very ladylike to drink. Do you, Miss O'Hara?"

"Look, I can't play _Gone with the Wind_ right now," Spencer seethes. "I invited my friends to this party because I missed them and haven't seen them in ages, but I didn't invite their drama! Check it at the door; there's no room for that here!"

He grins. "You're less than thrilled with the show, huh?"

She downs the drink in one gulp and pours another. "This is my fifth cup and I can't pee because of this fucking hoop skirt. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea?"

He shakes his head. "It was, and I quote, a 'lifelong dream'."

"Dream fulfilled. Dream _sucks_ ," She frowns and when she does, he realizes her lips are blue, her skin full of goose bumps.

"You're freezing to death, too," Toby points out. "Rhett and Scarlett lived in the south. They never had to deal with Halloween snowstorms."

She shrugs stubbornly. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Toby disagrees and peels off his coat to slip around her shoulders instead. "I'm sure you'd be a beautiful Popsicle. We don't need to test the theory."

She grins and then sobers just a bit to say, "Thank you for standing by me. Thank you for loving me even though I make it difficult. And thank you for not breaking up with me because long distance is hard."

"As if that would ever happen," He assures her. "Where is this coming from?"

"Because it _is_ hard. It's so _fucking_ hard," She continues despite his question. "But you know what would be even harder?"

"Not being together?" Toby guesses and she nods wildly.

"Not being together. So I'll take it, okay? And we're going to figure out our next step because that? That right there?" She points towards her friends, wallowing in so much relationship drama it makes both their heads spin. "That's some fucking bullshit and I want nothing to do with it."

Toby laughs and tells her, wholeheartedly, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Spencer professes and pulls him in for a slow and sensual kiss. "And next time we throw a Halloween party, I'm not going to wear a hoop skirt."

"It looks amazing on you, though."

"Or we'll throw it in Hawaii where it never snows," Spencer suggests. "Because, let's be real, this coat throws the whole thing off. Here- you can have it ba-"

"No," Toby's quick to disagree. "Seriously. There are icicles on your eyelashes."

"But it doesn't match my dress!"

"Frankly, my dear," Toby impersonates and an eye roll accompanies her grin. "I don't give a damn."

* * *

She's almost eight months pregnant and her hormones are really throwing her for a loop and she isn't really in the mood for happy-go-lucky Halloween fun. It's cold and blustery and she has an eight a.m. class the next morning, so the last thing she wants to do is dress up and party like she's in undergrad again. Ruefully, she thinks she's wiser than her years; she's only twenty-four, after all and maybe if she wasn't married and expecting her first child, she'd be out partying with some of her friends. No, probably not even then; she's in grad school, now. The days of drinking and carousing are long since behind her. So instead, she and Toby had made a polite appearance at Hanna and Caleb's party back home- a very, very short appearance, actually- and since pregnancy brain had completely robbed her of all facets of space and time, she hadn't had time, for the first time in her life, to make a homemade Halloween costume.

And yet, somehow, people were still texting her with compliments on what she'd managed to pull together.

Her costume had been easy. It's a brisk late fall day and so she'd had an excuse to wear warm clothing; a white, long-sleeved maternity top that had stretched perfectly over the growing dome of her belly and a pair of white leggings she'd bought at Target for eight dollars. Then, with a little creativity and red paint, she'd fashioned a giant handprint right in the center of her stomach, smeared it a little, and added a face… and that was it. Toby's was a bit more difficult. He'd worn cut off shorts, tattered and dirty, an old tank top she'd pretty much run over with her car, and then had grown a beard, but it still hadn't looked authentic enough, so she'd gotten him a fake one, anyway. He spent the entire party scratching his face and sneezing, so they're pretty sure he's allergic to whatever hair that beard is made of, but regardless, their costume is pretty stellar. Even though it's been years and years since the movie has left the theater, everyone had still been able to recognize a poor castaway and his only friend, Wilson.

Now, they're back home in their apartment in New York, answering the knocks on the door every now and then from tiny trick or treaters and binge eating candy. This is a Halloween tradition she can definitely get used to. She's stretched out on the couch, sucking a Tootsie Pop and absentmindedly rubbing her belly, her mind elsewhere. They've been watching slasher movies all night. Currently, _Scream_ is onscreen and they were just getting to the good part- the blood bath at Stu Macher's house- when a batch of little children decided to knock and beg for candy. Spencer's finally found a comfortable position and she isn't about to give that up to get some witches and vampires their fix. Instead, Toby gets the job done and he's gone much longer than he needs to be, so she's starting to wonder if Ghostface has starting hacking him up, too.

He returns a moment later and his face is completely clean-shaven. His absence makes a bit more sense, now. "As requested, I am free of scratchy facial hair. Does that mean we can kiss again?"

"Yes," She grins, delighted, and he sinks beside her, their lips meeting somewhere in the middle. "I'm sorry. I know you liked the beard."

Toby shrugs. "Not as much as I like you."

"I liked it too, you know," She assures him. "But this pregnancy has made my skin _so_ sensitive and you were literally ripping me up. Like, your face was like sandpaper."

He chuckles. "Well, you and your skin can relax. It's all back to normal again."

She grins at him. "Well then, what are you waiting for?"

They're kissing not moments later. She could definitely get used to this heightened sexual drive the pregnancy has brought her. Unfortunately, they don't get very far; there's a knock on the apartment door and a chorus of giggling children awaits in the hall. Sighing, Toby reluctantly disentangles himself from her and dutifully hands out candy to the little ones while the movie plays on and Spencer still jumps in all the right places. When he returns, Toby asks, "Okay, it's almost ten. That had to be the last of the trick or treaters. They have school tomorrow, right?"

"You're missing the end of the movie," She says instead. "Stu's been electrocuted and this is about the time when Billy comes back for one last scare."

"I've seen this movie before," He shrugs, sitting beside her. "So have you. At least a hundred times."

"But it's such a good movie," Spencer insists as Gail Weathers reports on the bloodbath and the credits begin to roll. "It's the perfect kind of scary movie because it's still suspenseful and it still freaks you out, but like you're never going to have nightmares from it. It's more of a thriller, I guess."

"It's good," Toby agrees. "I guess it's sort of become our tradition. So what's next? _Scream 2_?"

"Hmm," Spencer considers it. "How about something a little darker? _Halloween_?"

"We watched that last week," He disagrees. " _Psycho_?"

"Not _Psycho_ ," Spencer shakes her head. "I just wrote my term paper on representations of mental illnesses in the media, so I don't want to see that movie for a really long time."

He chuckles. "Fair enough. How about _Nightmare on Elm Street_?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that one," Spencer agrees. "It's been a long time since I've seen it."

Toby snatches the Apple TV remote and heads back to the Netflix search bar, and just as he's hit play, he realizes he's chosen the wrong movie. "Wait, this is _Nightmare Before Christmas_."

Spencer nods. "Another classic."

He shrugs, clicking for the menu. "I've never seen it."

"Hold on," She halts his actions. "You've _never_ seen _Nightmare Before Christmas_?"

"No," He replies warily. "Should I have?"

"Yes! It's a classic!" She exclaims and then snatches the remote from him. "Forget Freddy Krueger. We're watching the pumpkin king instead."

Toby smirks. "I thought you wanted to watch something darker?"

"That was before I found out you'd never seen this movie," She says as the opening sequence begins. "I'm not kidding when I say I watched this every Halloween and every Christmas season. It's such a good movie."

"Tim Burton's not really my thing."

"I mean, mine either," She shrugs. "But this one's different. I bet you'll like it anyway."

"If you say so."

 _Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange? Come with us and you will see. This, our town of Halloween! This is Halloween! This is Halloween! Pumpkins scream in the dead of night! This is Halloween, everybody make a scene. Trick or treat 'till the neighbors gonna die of fright! It's our town, everybody scream! In this town of Halloween!_

"Well the song's certainly catchy," Toby says. "But I don't get the storyline."

"That's because it just started," Spencer laughs. "It's about Jack, the pumpkin king, and he brings Christmas to Halloweentown, where it doesn't belong. That's all I'm going to tell you. Just watch it."

"I'm watching," He insists. "Especially if this is a movie we're going to be showing our little pumpkin in the future."

"Our little pumpkin is loving it already," Spencer tells him, taking his hand and placing it gently on her lower abdomen. "I would say that she is, indeed, hailing to the pumpkin song."

Toby chuckles and asks, "She? We've decided it's a she?"

"I just have a gut feeling," She shrugs and he nods.

"That gut feeling is called mother's intuition," He tells her. "And I'd bet you're probably right, but you wouldn't let us find out for sure."

"Don't go there," Spencer warns. "I will go on my rant again about how nothing is a surprise anymore."

"Not necessary," Toby assures her. "It'll be a surprise. That's fine."

"I knew you'd see things my way," Spencer jokes and he rolls his eyes.

"Lately, I always do," He teases right back. "Are you going to make her costumes from scratch, too?"

"Yes, are you kidding? Oh my god, can you just imagine it?" Spencer exclaims. "I'll be busy the entire month of October crafting her costume. She will be the best dressed baby on Halloween, no doubt about that."

"We're going to be one of those families who trick or treats wearing coordinating costumes, aren't we?" Toby asks.

Spencer's nodding instantly. "Of course we are. And we're going to be _so_ awesome. Mark my words."

Toby chuckles, handing her half of the Kit-Kat he's just unwrapped. "I can't wait."

* * *

"Gracie, hold _still_ ," Spencer pleads, a threaded needle between her teeth. "I have to fix the hem of your dress before you're tripping over it all night."

"But Mom, I'm _so_ excited!" Grace exclaims. "Everyone at school today loved my costume and I can't wait to show it off to the whole neighborhood. Plus, candy. We're going to get so much."

"Candy!" Lilly cheers from beside her. "I want a lot of chocolate."

"Yeah," Grace agrees. "And lollipops. But not the gross grape ones."

"Grace," Spencer says again. "I'm seriously going to stick you with this needle if you don't _hold still_."

"Okay, okay," The nine-year-old grumbles, her excited hopping immediately ceasing. "But hurry up, Mom! I want to get out there!"

"We still have to wait for Daddy and Henry," Spencer tells her. "Be patient, babe."

"Mom," Grace regards her, suddenly super serious. "We're about to get candy for free. I don't think being patient is possible."

Spencer can't help herself; she chuckles. Sitting back, to observe her work, she runs a hand over the hem of Grace's blue dress and nods. "Okay. You're done. Go put your shoes on and we'll be ready to go."

"Yay!" Grace shrieks and races for her tennis shoes. "Boys and girls, the doctor is in! That'll be five cents, please!"

"And that's my new pill… Phil…" Lilly stutters and then asks, a bit bashful, "How do you say it, Mommy?"

"Philosophy," Spencer tells her, twisting a handful of her blonde curls into a hair tie and off of her face. "That's your new philosophy."

"Yeah. That's my new philosophy," Lilly grins. "Oh yeah? That's what you think."

"Sally, Lucy, Snoopy," Toby addresses them, entering the room from the kitchen. "Meet our little Linus."

Henry is over a year old, but he's been running since before his birthday, and when he toddles into the room, dressed in a red striped shirt and trailing his blue baby blanket, everyone cheers with delight. Spencer collects him in her arms before asking, "So how come I'm the only one _not_ dressed as a human this year?"

"You're the one who came up with the _Peanuts_ idea," Toby teases. "Do you want to trade? You can be Charlie Brown and I'll be Snoopy."

She laughs. "No, I'm good. Let me go draw on a little dog nose and find my ears and we'll be good to go."

"Hurry up, Mom," Grace says impatiently. "Time is candy."

In minutes, they take a group family photo and send it out to their friends and families and then they're off gallivanting throughout the neighborhood. About halfway through, they run into Emily and her family and decide to team up to conquer the rest of the development together. This is the first year they, too, had coordinated outfits, with the twins dressed as Luke and Leia and Paige and Emily as Darth Maul and Darth Vader, respectively. Henry falls asleep about two streets later, sucking his thumb and clinging to his blanket; a true Linus. As the kids skip up to the next house, gaining compliment after compliment for their thoughtful and creative costumes, Emily chuckles and turns to her best friend.

"Your kids look so great," She says. "Did you make them? The costumes?"

"Thank you," Spencer grins. "And yeah, actually, I did. This was one of the easiest years so far, to be honest. The girls' dresses? They're just adult small t-shirts and I sewed on the ruffled edge."

"That's it?" Emily asks. "That's really cool."

"Yeah. And I just kind of sewed the squiggly pattern on Toby's and Henry already had a red striped shirt," Spencer explains. "I guess mine was the hardest, but even then it wasn't that bad. They have been absolutely _obsessed_ with the _Peanuts_ lately. Like, they'll look up clips on YouTube and we listen to the _You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown_ soundtrack in the car. I figured it worked."

"I mean, that's good," Emily says. "I don't even know what we're referencing. I hate _Star Wars_."

"Really? But you guys look so good," Spencer shakes her head. "I mean, Brynn's hair? Paige's makeup? Ben's light saber _actually_ makes noise? You guys are on point."

"Eh. We bought all of it," Emily shrugs. "And I can't breathe in this mask."

"How many times have you just wanted to say, _Ben… I am your father_?" Spencer jokes and Emily chuckles.

"I've been doing it _all_ day," She grins. "He thought it was funny at first but now I think he's just really sick of me."

"That sounds about right, especially for their age," Spencer says. "God, when did they get so old?"

"Beats me," Emily shakes her head. "Brynn told me last week that they're already talking about middle school. I can't handle that."

"Me either," Spencer agrees. "Grace is going to be ten in January. _Ten!_ "

"I know what you mean," Emily nods. "Sometimes the twins are already such adults and then other times…"

"They're still little kids," Spencer smiles complacently as she watches Grace trade a piece of candy with Bennett and help Lilly open a lollipop.

Then, she comes bounding up to her mother, her sister and father in tow, shouting, "Mom! That house gave out full-size Kit-Kats! Full-size, Mom!"

"Wow," She grins. "You're going to get quite the sugar rush."

"I'm going to save it for later," Grace tells her, choosing a Milky Way instead. "Dad got you one."

"That was nice of him," Spencer replies as Toby approaches and they prepare to walk to the next house.

"Come on, Snoopy," He beckons and when she follows, he scratches her fake ears, saying, "Good dog."

"You're having too much fun," Spencer comments. "I heard you got me some candy."

"Yeah, but I don't know what I was thinking," He teases. "Dogs can't have chocolate. You'll die."

"Alright, that's it," Spencer decides. "Next year, we're going as an all-human group."

"I like these costumes, though. They're definitely the most comfortable," Toby tells her honestly. "And you did a really good job with them. They look amazing."

"Thank you," She says. "But can you take the baby? My arm is literally numb."

"Yeah," He agrees and carefully shifts Henry onto his shoulder. "A couple more houses and then we call it a night?"

"Please," Spencer agrees. "My feet hurt and it's cold and I'm ready for some hot chocolate."

"And a movie?" Toby suggests and when Spencer nods, he adds, "How about _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_?"

"I don't know why," Spencer says. "But I'm kind of over Charlie Brown."

Toby chuckles and nods towards their girls. "I don't think they are."

"Happiness is," Grace sings. "Morning and evening."

"Daytime and nighttime, too," Lilly adds and then yawns, rubbing her eyes.

"For happiness is anyone and anything at all," Grace finishes. "That's loved by you!"

"This is happiness," Toby says, reaching for Spencer's free hand. "Seeing them so happy. Spending quality time running around and getting candy. I don't know. It's what it's all about, you know? It's the most important thing."

It is; it's number one. Toby and their kids are the only things that matter in the whole world and nothing could ever change that. She smiles at him and says, "You're a good man, Toby Cavanaugh."

The kids step up to the front porch and Bennett rings the doorbell. Brynn taps Grace on the shoulder and says, "Your Mom and Dad are kissing."

"Ew," Bennett scrunches his nose. "Charlie Brown can't kiss his dog."

Grace shrugs. "They do that a lot. You get used to it."


	13. the moment i held you

**I'm not even sorry. :P I'm grateful, obviously. Thanks for reading and for your continued support. This chapter details Henry's birth, so apologies if labor and delivery aren't quite your thing. Obviously I'm not going into graphic detail or anything, but like I said way back when, I'm also not sugarcoating it. Labor ain't cute, kids. Anyone else just get deja vu? :P  
**

 **Chapter title comes from "The Moment I Saw You" by Nicolette Larson, story comes from me and reviews come from you, if you choose to. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing, if you do!**

* * *

the moment I held you

Her due date is July 26th.

Of many things, she is not certain, because pregnancy brain is a real condition and that combined with the fact that she has an eight-year-old and a two-year-old _and_ the heat index is breaking records this year renders her mind completely useless. She doesn't know if her older daughter had a full breakfast this morning; she may have allowed her to eat a cupcake for breakfast, but hey, at least she'd washed it down with a glass of milk. She doesn't know if her younger daughter is even wearing pants; she's in the 'do it myself' phase, these days, and normally, this means the fabulous combination of inside-out t-shirt and Pampers Pull-Up is her go-to look, pants need not apply. She doesn't know when she last ran the dishwasher or cleaned out the refrigerator or vacuumed the living room floor, because all of these details seem to slip her mind without ever taking proper footing in the first place nowadays.

But she knows for a fact that her due date is July 26th.

It's something she checks with her doctor during each visit, something she catalogues, something she makes a mental and physical note of. She marks it on her calendar and then counts upwards a few weeks, just in case. Grace had been born three weeks early and though at the time it had done nothing but frighten Spencer, fearing they weren't ready to be parents or fearing she'd be born underdeveloped, everything had turned out alright. She was healthy, happy and most of all, full-term, and they were able to take her home right away. With Lilly, she was due at the end of June, but instead, her little girl was born five weeks early in mid-May and required a bit more attention than her older sister had. She'd been stuck in the NICU, in an incubator, with oxygen and a jaundice lamp, and Spencer had wondered what was wrong with her; why couldn't she carry a baby to term? The doctors had assured her it was nothing she did- just one of those things- and Lilly joined their family at home, happy and healthy. So, knowing she has the potential to labor earlier than her suggested due date, the moment July comes, Spencer prepares for birth. Her due date is July 26th, though; it's ingrained in the forefront of her mind.

Why? Because July 26th comes and goes and there is still no sign of a baby.

She wakes up on the morning of the 28th in a pool of her own sweat, her sheets damp, her hair matted to her face and neck, and her clothes sticking to her skin. She has never felt more unattractive in her life. She can hear the clanging of dishes downstairs and knows Toby's getting breakfast ready for the girls, a spectacle in itself. Pulling herself to a sitting position with great difficulty, she peels the sheets off of her and tries to think back nine months to what they were possibly thinking when they conceived. October would have been her last menstrual cycle, which means they would have conceived in… Of course. November- their anniversary. She smirks and shakes her head, unsurprised, but wishes the Spencer and Toby of nine months ago would have considered that should a child result of the exorbitant amount of sex they had, she would be reaching the most uncomfortable part of said pregnancy during the unbearable month of July. Then again, they never really were the ones to listen to reason, especially when the other was involved. Throw in some champagne, an anniversary weekend free of their older two kids, and a mountain-view resort in the Poconos and that ship sailed _long_ ago.

Spencer supposes that it's probably a good thing her third child's stayed in there longer than her other two. At least she knows he or she will be healthy enough to come home with them right away; no NICU stays or incubators for this one. She also supposes she should probably head downstairs and help her husband with breakfast, but she both looks and feels like a sewer rat, so she's going to take a shower first. Padding into the adjacent room, she quickly turns the nob and discards her clothing, stepping under the soothing waterfall. She adjusts the temperature so it's as cool and refreshing as she can stand it and sighs in relief, grinning slightly as the water hits her stomach and the baby rolls and elbows her in response. Being pregnant is possibly one of the strangest and most amazing feelings she's ever gone through and maybe she and Toby haven't quite discussed it yet, but Spencer privately believes this is the last time. They'd like a boy to complete their little family and though they hadn't found out the sex for the third time in a row (and she hadn't had to badger Toby to agree, this time), she feels it deep in her soul- their prayers had been answered.

Stepping out of the shower, the heat hits her like a slap in the face and her mood is instantly sour once more. A week earlier their AC unit had been shot to hell, and it took hours to replace and a few hundred dollars, but it had been working ever since. As Spencer descends the staircase into the foyer, she notes it still is; the house is a comfortable seventy-two degrees and she shouldn't be sweating bullets like she'd never showered in the first place. She steps into the kitchen unnoticed and pulls open the refrigerator, contemplating a breakfast that wouldn't make her feel heavy and full for the rest of the day, and as the cool air from the inside greets her balmy skin, she realizes this is good enough.

"Good morning, beautiful," Toby greets her with a complacent smile and Spencer wonders if he's seeing what she does when she looks in the mirror. He can't be. Or, if he is, he's blatantly lying to her.

"Morning, Mommy," Grace grins from the table. "Daddy made pancakes."

"Mommy," Lilly coos. "Mickey Mouse!"

"Daddy made Mickey pancakes?" Spencer implores from her spot in the fridge. "That was nice of him."

"It's Saturday," Toby shrugs. "Saturday's pancake day. Can I make you one?"

"No, thanks," Spencer shakes her head. "I don't think I can eat. I'm just going to have some juice or something. It's too hot to eat."

Toby steps closer, asking, "Are you alright? I won't judge you if you want to have a Popsicle for breakfast."

"I won't. I will actually eat something nutritious. Can't give this kid the wrong idea," Spencer tells him and chooses some yogurt and granola with fresh blueberries. "But my God, is he ever going to make an appearance?"

"It's only been two days," Toby tells her and then implores, "Wait, he?"

"I decided it's a boy," Spencer tells him. "Because only a boy would be this much of stubborn, pain in the ass."

Toby chuckles. "I disagree. Our other girls may have come earlier than expected, but that didn't make them easier."

"That's true," Spencer sighs and begins stirring her yogurt, before her eyes catch the digital clock on the stove and she balks. "It's almost nine o'clock! How is it so late? I don't ever get up this late!"

"You were sleeping," Toby shrugs. "You were actually sleeping for once and I wasn't waking you up. Relax. I've got this."

And, as she glances around the kitchen, she has to admit he does. The dishes are done, the girls are fed and happy, and Lilly's even wearing pants; a cute skirt, actually, that Spencer's never even seen before. She shakes her head and asks, "How are you so much better at this than I am?"

"Oh stop. I'm not better at _anything_ than you are," Toby insists and then amends his statement. "Except maybe Scrabble. And reading Grace her bedtime stories."

"She picks the same three every night!" Spencer exclaims. "How are you better at that?"

Grace pipes up from the table, saying, "Daddy does the voices."

Toby nods. "You've got to do the voices."

"And I _don't_ pick the same ones," Grace disagrees, bringing her dishes to the sink. "I just got five new ones from the library and we've been reading those. Two of them are _Magic Tree House_ books because I loved that one about the _Titanic_."

"Oh, Grace, I grew up on those books," Spencer tells her. "Good choice."

"And then I picked one that I can read to the baby," Grace informs her. "I already practiced on Lilly."

Toby adds, "That's assuming the baby ever shows up."

Spencer chuckles. "Don't remind me."

* * *

It's July 31st and still no sign of baby number three. Spencer is still incredibly uncomfortable and the heat and humidity have yet to break. Grace goes to summer camp during the day and Lilly basically plays around her mother, not particularly bothered that she halfheartedly joins in, but Spencer's really at wit's end with this pregnancy. Every time the little one inside her performs his or her gymnastics routine on her insides, she's sending the infant telepathy to make his or her grand entrance. It's time. She's ready; she's more than ready. Worse than that, she's overdue. And there isn't much in any of her pregnancy books that tell her what to do when the due date comes and goes. When she searches Google for the answer, anxiety begins to build within her. Most sources claim that rarely, if ever, do second or third pregnancies go past term, and that it could be a sign of something abnormal. This only sparks panic within her and she begins to worry.

Luckily for her, July 31st is the date of her next prenatal appointment and, after leaving both girls with Aria for the afternoon, Spencer and Toby head for the OB/GYN to get some answers or possibly even results. It starts off the same; the nurse takes her vitals and her height and weight and asks if she has any concerning symptoms or questions for the doctor. Spencer has only one- when is this child going to vacate her uterus? The nurse chuckles and tells her it'll be just a moment for the doctor to arrive and the couple waits in silence. It's icy cold in here today and she wonders if they keep it like this on purpose, because surely she can't be the only woman nine months pregnant and melting her skin off. She wishes, briefly, that there could be a way to keep her own house this cold and then frowns because surely it would freeze her remaining family members into icicles. Then she pictures it and gets mildly emotional. If the heat doesn't kill her first, these damn hormones will.

A knock on the door signals Dr. Campbell's arrival and she grins at both of them when she enters. Her happiness sends a fit of resentment through Spencer and she wonders if this woman knows how lucky she is _not_ to be nine months pregnant in this heat. "Hello, hello, hello! How are we doing?"

"Five days late and still no baby," Spencer cuts to the chase. "How do _you_ think we're doing?"

"I noticed," Dr. Campbell jokes. "To be honest, I was surprised not to hear from you this week. You must be really uncomfortable."

"Oh, just a tad," Spencer seethes. "Any indication of when this kid might want to make an appearance?"

"Honestly, you're doing everything right," Dr. Campbell tells her. "Last time you were here, you were about fifty percent effaced and about a centimeter or two dilated, so I figured it would be soon. But your baby has different plans- I don't think he or she's ready to check out yet!"

"Too bad," Spencer says, shifting uncomfortably as her doctor begins the exam. "I'm sending an eviction notice."

"This might sound like a stupid question," Toby prefaces. "But… I mean, the baby's going to come out, right? Like he's not going to stay in there forever?"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Toby…"

"No, I don't mean it like that, I'm just saying…" He backpedals, explaining himself. "She hasn't been sleeping well, so we've been watching a lot of late night television and one of the specials was a documentary on this Brazilian woman who was pregnant for 84 _years_. And it freaked me out, that's all."

"Ah, yes, I know what you're talking about," Dr. Campbell says. "But that was a very special case, see, the fetus had passed away in utero and so it simply stopped growing and she never gave birth. She honestly hadn't even known about it and wrote her stomach pains off as indigestion and illness. But you certainly don't have to worry about that. Your child's very healthy; super strong heartbeat, squirming around, taking a nap on Spencer's bladder…"

"Explains why I have to pee," She sighs and they chuckle.

"Don't worry; your time will come," Dr. Campbell assures them. "I'm sure this is very new to you, considering your prior pregnancies. I delivered little Lilly at 35 weeks, but I understand your firstborn was early as well?"

"Not as; she was due late January and was born on the eighth," Spencer explains. "But yeah, I guess I'm kind of used to going early, so this is definitely a surprise."

Toby then wonders, "How late will you let it go?"

"Each pregnancy is different," Dr. Campbell tells them. "But we usually don't let you get past 42 weeks, and you are heading for that date. I'd say if you haven't gone into active labor by August seventh, then I'm going to offer you an induction."

"Induction?" Spencer asks. "You're not going to force me to have a cesarean are you?"

"Only if medically necessary," She says. "But what we would do, if you agreed, is we'd bring you in at 42 weeks and set you up on a Pitocin drip."

"Pitocin?" Toby probes and Dr. Campbell nods.

"It's an intravenous medicine that triggers contractions," She explains. "If by then, you haven't had your little one, we'll help you along."

"I read online that going past your due date is uncommon for a second or third pregnancy," Spencer then says. "That it could be a sign of something abnormal or a cause for alarm."

Dr. Campbell dismisses this easily. "Like I said, every pregnancy is different, whether it's your first or your thirty-first. And less than five percent of babies come on their actual due date, which means every other baby is left to come a few days to a few weeks before, to a few days to a few weeks after. Either way, it's normal. There's no reason to worry; your baby's very healthy. And you're at 65% and two, maybe two and a half centimeters, so you are progressing. Just a little slower than you'd probably like."

"Is there anything we can do to maybe speed up the process?" Toby asks and Spencer nods eagerly beside him.

"Of course, but they're all old wives' tales," Dr. Campbell says. "Some women swear by them, others say they've tried them all and nothing worked. It's up to Mother Nature, really."

"But what are they?" Spencer wonders. "Because honestly, I will try anything at this point."

"I've heard everything from acupuncture to castor oil," Dr. Campbell tells her. "Long walks, spicy foods, sex… Those are the most popular, anyway. I'm sure there are many more."

"Thanks," Spencer nods. "We'll give them a try."

* * *

It's August 2nd. She's beginning to lose it.

The night before, they'd had enchiladas for dinner and both Grace and Lilly had barely eaten anything, and Spencer had mostly jalapenos. After, they'd gone for a nice, long walk around the neighborhood, Grace had ridden her bike and Lilly had pedaled her tiny little tricycle in an effort to keep up with her older sister. And yet that night, when they were bathed and sound asleep and their parents had retreated to their own bed, there were still no stabbing pains at her lower abdomen, no rush of gross, warm fluid, not a single sign of labor. They laid awake for a while and waited and yet midnight came and went and then it was a new day; a day where they were still just a family of four, not yet five. And then it hit her; all the frustration and discomfort and irritation hit her all at once and she sat upright, paralyzed with emotion, as Toby did the same beside her, a look of hope on his face.

Instead of being in active labor, she was instead bawling her eyes out.

"What if you're right? What if he never comes out?" She'd cried. "What if he stays in there forever and I'm pregnant for 84 years?"

"Okay, look, we never should have watched that documentary, first of all," Toby had told her, rubbing her back. "And second, he's not going to do that. That poor woman's baby was dead, but ours isn't. He's perfectly fine."

"But what if he's not?" She insisted. "We don't know what's going on in there. What if-"

"Spencer, we heard his heartbeat two days ago," Toby said. "Remember? At the doctor?"

"Yeah, but that was two days ago," Spencer shook her head. "Who knows what happened since then. Who knows if he-"

"Hey, look at me," He'd curled a hand into her hair, their eyes meeting. "He's okay. He's perfectly fine. He'll come out when he's ready."

He'd taken her hand, then, and pressed it right up against the dome of her stomach. "You feel that, right there? Where he's kicking the crap out of you?"

"Yeah."

"That's him, babe. He's there and he's perfectly fine."

"I'm so uncomfortable," She'd then whined. "I want to sleep and I _can't_. It's _so_ hot. And dinner didn't help me go into labor at all; it just gave me horrible heartburn."

"I know. I'm so sorry," Toby had lamented. "Let me know what I can do for you. I will literally do anything to make this easier for you."

"I know you will," She'd replied, her lower lip quivering. "You've been so great. I don't deserve it; I don't deserve _you_."

"Spencer, we're not having this conversation _again_ ," He'd told her firmly. "Look, lay down, get as comfortable as you can, use as many pillows as you need, okay? I'm going to make you a cup of tea and we'll put on a movie or something. Just… try and relax, okay? Working yourself up isn't going to solve anything right now."

And that's all she remembers. She must've fallen asleep before he'd returned and she certainly doesn't remember that, but she'll take what she can get. God, Toby's a saint; she doubts he has the energy to wrangle their two daughters _and_ fight her insecurities magnified by pregnancy hormones, but he does it in stride, anyway. She has absolutely no idea how she got so lucky, but she's certainly not letting him go. In fact, she's overcome with the need to tell him just how much he means to her, just how thankful she is to be doing this with him by her side, but he's nowhere to be found. Grace is at camp and Lilly's down for her afternoon nap and she honestly cannot find her husband anywhere. Just as she's passing the sliding glass door that leads to the porch, she spots him cleaning the pool and, like a giddy teenager, her heart skips a beat.

She's pretty sure she'd like to keep him.

Sliding the porch door open, Spencer takes a step into mid-afternoon sunshine, which beats down on her cranium and forms beads of sweat between her shoulder blades, and steps closer to the pool deck. He's shirtless and sweating and completely oblivious to her observing from afar as he plunges the vacuum down the slimy walls, across the bottom of the pool and back to the surface of the water. His skin's a nice golden brown already, because he always tans and never burns, something he's been blessed with and she appreciates greatly. The rippling muscles of his arms and back are taunting her, calling to her, and she can't take her eyes off of him. She's filled to the brim with the overwhelming need to touch him. These are the hormones she could get used to, honestly.

He doesn't notice her until she's mere feet from him. "Spencer, I didn't think-"

She attacks his mouth with her own and he drops the pole in surprise, but kisses back in earnest. After a moment, he pulls back to ask, "What has gotten into you?"

"You have," She says as though he should have picked up on these vibes before attaching their lips once more. "Make love to me."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Toby says and the pool is utterly forgotten.

They're making out heavily as they head back inside, up the stairs, towards their bedroom, and Spencer, in between kisses, blurts out, "We are _so_ going to induce labor this way."

Toby smirks and jokes, "I love it when you talk dirty."

"Hey, it's been nine long, uncomfortably hot, hormonal months. It's time to get him out," Spencer insists. "Finish what you started, Cavanaugh."

His eyebrows flick upwards as he regards her. "Say no more."

They fall back against the bed and are just beginning to remove their clothing when she pauses and her disposition changes slightly. He senses it and pulls back to ask, concerned, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…" She shakes her head and runs a hand through her already mussed hair. "I'm a sweaty mess, I literally can't see my feet, I'm like twelve months pregnant and I… I can't believe you still want to do this with me."

Toby gives her look like _she's_ the crazy one, not him. It's probably true. "You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful. And you, right here, right now, have never been more beautiful."

Spencer smiles, her balance restored. "I love you."

"I love _you_ ," Toby insists. "And if you're trying to talk me out of having sex with you, it's not happening."

Yeah. She _definitely_ wants to keep him.

* * *

It's August 5th and she's reached her breaking point.

Every time the baby rolls over or jabs her bladder or practices his routine for his Cirque du Soleil audition, she prepares for her water to break or for her first contraction and when it doesn't happen, she curses loudly. Many times she considers walking into the kitchen and performing a cesarean section of her own and she's pretty sure she could figure it out, except for the part where she has to stitch herself back up afterwards. That could get a little tricky, but she supposes there's a video for that somewhere on the Internet; everything's on YouTube, nowadays. She has long since passed uncomfortable by this point; now, she's downright irritable. Everything pisses her off and she has a very, very short fuse for anyone's problems other than her own.

That is, until Toby takes a phone call and returns to the living room a different person. It could only mean one thing- his father had called.

He waits until Grace is occupied with a bunch of Legos and Lilly is busy slaving away at her play kitchen before reluctantly giving up the goods. "My Dad just called. He invited us to his end of the summer barbeque… Again."

It's true; Daniel Cavanaugh's invitation is annual and rarely, if ever, do they take him up on it. Spencer sighs and asks, point blank, "Do you want to go?"

"Not really," Toby replies. "I mean… What good could possibly come out of that? Do you remember the conversation we had at that Fourth party that one year? When Grace was little?"

"Yeah, but that was six years ago, Toby," Spencer reasons and he frowns.

"What?" He probes. "You think he's changed?"

"No," She tells him honestly. "But you have."

He doesn't say anything else. Spencer pleads, "Look, let's just get it over with. If we go this year, then we won't feel bad about declining next year."

Toby sighs heavily. "Fine."

"We'll make a polite appearance and be out of there by dessert," Spencer promises. "But he better not say _anything_ negative to you, because I will rip him a new one. Pregnant me doesn't hold back."

Toby glances at her and teases, "And how is that different from not-pregnant you?"

She swats at him and he laughs and that's how, the very next day on August the 6th, they end up back in Rosewood at Toby's childhood home, making small talk with people they don't really know at a party they'd rather not attend. Spencer has an uneasy feeling in her stomach the entire drive, one that only worsens the moment they pull up and enter the yard. Across the crowd, Spencer spots Emily, to her confusion, and when she and the girls approach her, she wonders, "Hey, Em, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, my parents and the Cavanaughs have been neighbors forever," Emily explains, accepting a hug from Grace and scooping Lilly into her arms as she giggles. "My Mom comes to this thing every year and usually drags my Dad with her, but he hasn't been feeling so hot lately, so she begged me."

Spencer notices, "No Paige? Twins?"

"Please. I keep them out of Rosewood as much as I can," Emily replies and Spencer nods her understanding. They share this philosophy, after all. "Have Toby and his Dad mended fences yet?"

"Hardly," Spencer shakes her head. "He invites us every year, out of obligation I'm sure, but I don't think he expected us to come. You should've seen his face when we came in."

Emily frowns. "Poor Toby. Is he with his father now?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "And I pushed him to come, as I always do, and now I feel awful about it. I have a terrible stomachache."

"You were just being supportive," Emily assures her. "It's probably fine."

Spencer glances towards the deck, where her husband and the elder Cavanaugh are chatting brusquely. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Meanwhile, Daniel is coating a rack of ribs and some drumsticks with barbeque sauce as Toby stands idly by beside him. "I'm glad you could make it, son. We were beginning to wonder if you'd stayed away on purpose."

"Yeah, we did," Toby tells him honestly. "Remember? You don't approve of my lifestyle? The woman I'm spending the rest of my life with?"

"Grace has gotten big," Daniel says instead. "She was just a little thing last time we saw her."

"It's been six years," Toby sighs. "That happens."

"Lilly, too," Daniel nods. "She's beautiful. Reminds me of your mother, honestly. Looks a lot like her."

"Yeah," He frowns. "I guess."

"You know, you've got a family you have to support, now," Daniel says. "It's time to settle down and get a real, respectable job. Have you thought about going to school to get a degree?"

"Dad, I'm thirty-three," Toby replies. "I don't have time to go to college. Besides, I already have a job."

"Right," Daniel frowns. "With that construction company."

"It's an architect's office," Toby corrects. "And between that and Spencer's job, we do okay. Trust me."

"Architect, construction," He waves it off. "Same thing. Look-"

"It's not the same thing," Toby disagrees. "I'm a contractor; a carpenter. I don't wear an orange vest and a hard hat."

"The bottom line is, wouldn't you like to do something that could support the both of you so Spencer didn't have to work?" Daniel suggests. "She could focus on the little ones and you could bring home the bacon."

"She likes her job," He shakes his head. "She's good at it, too. She's helping people."

"Or that's just what she's telling you," Daniel says. "Look, I know a woman in my office who would _love_ to meet with you and talk over a job in finance-"

"Dad," Toby halts him. "Did you invite me here to proposition me into taking a job with you? Move back here? Because that's absolutely not going to happen."

"Toby, you're not making anything of your life and frankly, we're sick of it," Daniel sighs, shutting the grill. "If you could just listen-"

"No, you listen," Toby shoots back. "I have a job. I have a home that I built with my own two hands. I have two children, one on the way and a wife, all of whom I love dearly, and you're trying to tell me I'm not making anything of my life? What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to wake up and realize what you're doing," Daniel seethes. "You are playing with fire, Toby. She and her people are accustomed to a certain style of living and you might think she's okay with what you're giving her, but sooner or later, she's going to realize it isn't for her and leave you high and dry. It's not good enough; _you're_ not good enough and so unless you make a drastic change to try and give her the life she expects, you're going to be the one getting burned, here. It's just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop and you must be _blind_ if you still can't see that."

Toby's quiet a minute before saying, "We've been together for sixteen years. Did you ever think maybe there is no other shoe?"

He turns around to find Spencer standing there, a pained look on her face, and just knows she's heard the whole thing. But it's a different kind of pain; it's physical pain, and he knows how much she hurts whenever someone doesn't treat him with respect, but it's never like this. He asks, "Are you okay?"

"I left the girls with Emily and Pam," She's breathing calmly, but there's stress in her eyes. "I'm in labor."

He jumps into action. "Okay. Okay, let's go. Let's get out of here."

Spencer glances at Daniel and says, "I'd say thanks for inviting us, but I don't think you ever really wanted us here in the first place."

Daniel stares at their retreating backs and nothing more is said.

* * *

"Eleven days late," Toby comments from the driver's seat. "That's got to be a new record."

"Just drive," She breathes rhythmically. "Please, just drive."

"I am, I am," He assures her. "We'll be there in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" She asks as another contraction slices through her like a blade. "Where are you taking me?"

He eyes her strangely. "The hospital?"

"Rosewood Memorial?" She whines as it grows closer. "No, no, no, I can't have the baby in Rosewood. I can't."

"It's just a hospital, Spencer, and it's the closest one," Toby disagrees. "It's fine. I'm sure they have plenty of qualified-"

"I can't have the baby in Rosewood!" She shrieks again. "Go home. Please, go home."

"We're _right_ here," Toby pleads with her. "Do you want to have this baby in a hospital or in the car on the _way_ to our hospital?"

She bites her lip, considering, and he shouts, incredulous, "Are you seriously contemplating that?"

"We can make it," Spencer assures him. "We can. Please go home. Back to our hospital. _Please_."

Toby sighs. "It's going to be like twenty-five, thirty minutes."

"He waited eleven days," Spencer says. "I'm sure thirty minutes is nothing."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Toby shakes his head and pulls onto the highway as Spencer squirms uncomfortably beside him. "How far apart are they?"

"Six minutes, twelve seconds," She breathes. "Oh, God, distract me."

"Uh, the presidents," Toby decides. "Name them. In order."

"You always give me the easy ones," She says. "Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe-"

"Okay, fine," Toby cuts her off. "In _reverse_ order, then."

"Now you're talking," She jokes. "Obama, Bush, Clinton, Bush, Reagan, Carter…"

She's stumped on who came before William McKinley as her contraction subsides. There's nothing but open road and commuters before her and she can feel the baby's head resting very low in her pelvis. If being pregnant is one of the weirdest and most amazing feelings she's ever experienced, then actually giving birth might just be number one. She glances over at the determination on Toby's face and smiles, saying, "The baby wants to defend you as much as I do."

Toby shoots her an odd glance before shifting his gaze back to the road. "What?"

"I haven't been feeling well all day, but I didn't have my first contraction until I walked over there and overheard your father reaming you out for no reason," Spencer explains. "That was it. Baby wanted out."

He chuckles. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. He's like, 'That's it. Let me at him'," Spencer says. "'Nobody talks to my Daddy like that'."

He grins but before he can reply, her calm visage melts into one of excruciating pain instead and she groans, "That was _not_ six minutes. They're getting closer. Drive faster!"

"I'm already doing ten over the speed limit," He tells her. "If we had just gone to Rosewood Memorial-"

"Now is not the time for 'I told you so'," She insists. "Distract me!"

"Okay, you think it's a boy, right?"

"It is a boy."

"We haven't chosen a name," Toby says. "How about Jacob?"

"Reminds me of _Twilight_."

"Patrick?"

"Reminds me of _SpongeBob_."

"Harrison?"

"Reminds me of _Dexter_ ," Spencer says. "New rule- nothing from the media, okay?"

"You're _so_ picky," Toby shakes his head. "You haven't liked a single name I've suggested since the beginning."

"This is important, okay?" Spencer insists. "This is our _child's name_. We can't just look at a big book of names and say, 'Huh, I like Jackson. Let's call him Jackson.' What if we look at him and he isn't a Jackson?"

Toby shrugs. "I do kind of like Jackson."

"Jackson was an example!" She exclaims. "Look, all I'm saying is we can't count our chickens before they've hatched. I don't want to name him something that isn't his name."

"So why don't we pick out a few, then, and choose the one that fits him best once he's born?" Toby suggests and Spencer contemplates this for a moment before nodding.

"I knew I married you for a reason."

They settle on Jack, Samuel, and Liam and then two minutes later, she's suffering through one of the worst contractions thus far, gripping the door handle as Toby changes lanes. "God, they're two minutes apart, now. You _have_ to hurry."

"We're still at least fifteen minutes away," Toby tells her. "I'm doing what I can, but-"

"Oh my God!" She shrieks and Toby begins to panic.

"What? What?" He glances at her and back at the road in a swivel pattern. "What? What's wrong?"

"My water just broke," Spencer says, her face twisted in pain. "Oh my God, hurry. Please hurry."

"I'm hurrying," Toby insists. "And note to self- the towels were a _good_ idea."

She chuckles but it soon turns into a groan of pain as another contraction rages like wildfire. "Distract me. _Distract me!_ "

"Um, I… I…" Toby searches for a subject and then frowns when he realizes the answer's been there all along. "Well, a nice long talk with my father finally revealed what I've always been thinking and secretly hoped wasn't true. He thinks I'm a disappointment and you're too good for me."

"You're joking," She emits through gritted teeth. "You better be fucking joking."

"I wish I was," Toby says. "I mean, I've been a disappointment since the day I moved out, but I always thought I'd built a nice life for myself and he'd be happy for me. For us. But he's just waiting for you to realize you're so much better than I am-"

"That's fucking bullshit."

"- and take the kids and leave me-"

"Never in a million fucking years."

"- so I'll come crawling back to him and he can say 'I told you so'." Toby finishes. "That's what my father sees when he looks at us. I can't believe _anyone_ could."

"I'm sorry," She laments. "I'm so, so sorry and if anything, _he's_ the one who doesn't deserve you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I can't _stand_ when he does this to you. I really can't."

"Honestly, it didn't really surprise me." Toby says. "It didn't hurt like it usually does. It irritated me, but… I don't know. Maybe after all these years, I'm finally becoming immune."

Her heart breaks for him and she sighs. "Toby…"

"It doesn't matter," He shakes his head. "He's taught me a lot, anyway. My son is never going to feel like this. Nothing he does will ever make me see him as a disappointment. I don't care if he has a respectable job or if he goes to clown school or if he throws away his education and wants to backpack across Europe. He's never going to be a failure. I'm going to love him anyway."

"I know you are," Spencer says. "Because that's the kind of person you are. It's the kind of person you've always been. But I don't think you learned that from your Dad. I think you learned it from your Mom."

He glances over at her and smiles and she sends one right back. But their nice moment doesn't last too long. She's in searing pain moments later. "I can't. It's like every other minute now."

"Here," Toby reaches over and unbuckles her seatbelt. "Get comfortable."

She exhales heavily, saying, "Asterisk."

"Yeah, okay, as comfortable as you can be," He replies. "We'll be there in ten."

"Ten?" She moans. "I'm not going to make it. I'm going to have the baby in the car."

"You're _not_ going to have the baby in the car," Toby shakes his head. "You're not, because I do not know how to deliver a baby."

"I do all the work, you just catch," Spencer says. "Oh my God, I'm going to give birth in the car."

"Do _not_ give birth in the car."

"I'm going to. I'm going to."

"Well, let me at least pull over first."

"Don't pull over! Do not stop this car."

"But you just said-"

"I need to get to the hospital _now_."

"I'm _trying!_ " Toby frets. "I'm trying. I'm seriously doing 80 right now."

"I know, and I love you for it, but please do 85," Spencer begs. "Oh my God. Oh my _God_."

"Please don't have the baby in the car."

" _I'm_ trying not to," Spencer breathes and then groans. "Oh my God, I have to push."

"No, don't!" Toby demands, his eyes wide. "Please don't! Do not have this baby in the car. You can't have this baby in the car!"

"Stop yelling at me," Spencer breathes. "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to. I'm not," He insists. "Just… What do you want me to do? Do you want me to pull over? I will."

"Will we still have to pay for use of the hospital if I give birth on the side of the road?" Spencer asks and when Toby glances over at her, there's a wry grin on her face.

He chuckles. "How are you making jokes right now?"

"Don't pull over," She shakes her head. "Just keep driving. I have to push. I have to but… I won't. I won't, just keep driving."

"Okay. Okay, we're _almost_ there," Toby says. "I can see it in the distance."

"Good, because this is the weirdest feeling ever," Spencer tells him. "I can feel it."

"You can feel what? The baby?"

"The baby's _head_ ," She replies. "He's _right there_. We need to go."

They pull up to the hospital minutes later and Toby rushes inside for nurses and a wheelchair. When they return to the car, Spencer's shaking her head, saying, "I can't move. I literally can't move. If I do, this baby is literally going to fall out of me."

"Well, he took his time getting here," A nurse comments. "But when he wants out, he wants _out_!"

"Here, let me help you," Toby says and hooks an arm around her torso, shifting her with some difficulty from the car to the wheelchair. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can be," She shrugs and breathes through a painful contraction. "Don't leave my side."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

A nurse slips on a latex glove and reaches in the direction of her nether regions, asking, "May I?"

And normally she would be a bit wary of doing this in the middle of the parking lot for the entire world to see, but she's managed not to give birth in the car and she mostly doesn't care, anymore. "Go for it."

After just a touch, the nurse shakes her head and says, "Yeah, the head's maybe an inch away from the cervix. We're going to bypass triage and send her straight to L&D."

They wheel her inside and take her to the closest empty room to change into a hospital gown, but the hallway to Labor & Delivery is the farthest they get. Before she can be hooked up to a fetal heart monitor, before she can be propped up in a bed, her feet in stirrups, before she can even make it to the delivery room, she grips the side of the wheelchair she's sitting in and announces, "I can't wait any longer. I have to push."

"Honey, do what you feel." One of her nurses tells her, slipping on fresh latex gloves. "I bet this baby will be out in five pushes, max."

He's out in two. The entire hallway is filled with the fresh cry of a newborn a mere five minutes after they'd arrived at the hospital. The nurse wipes a bit of blood and amniotic fluid from the baby's nose and mouth and places the squirming infant on Spencer's chest, announcing excitedly, "Congratulations! It's a boy!"

Spencer kisses his tiny forehead exhaustedly and turns to Toby, saying, "Told you so."

He chuckles and cuts the umbilical cord, saying, "You're always right, aren't you?"

"About these things, yes," She reaches for him and he comes willingly, meeting her lips halfway. "I love you. Thank you for getting me here. You're my hero."

"You're welcome," He smiles languidly. "And as usual, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen and I love you so, so much."

Dr. Campbell's in the hallway then, and she lets out a laugh. "Well… Your little guy finally showed up, huh?"

"Finally," Spencer replies and Toby nods along.

"And he just couldn't wait for me," Dr. Campbell jokes. "Heard you almost gave birth in the car."

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Gave us quite the heart attack."

"Well, I'm glad you waited, Baby Cavanaugh," Dr. Campbell grins. "Hallways are so much better."

Dr. Campbell does get the stellar job of delivering the afterbirth and when all is said and done, everyone is cleaned up and sent to recovery. They fit both the baby and his parents with matching hospital bracelets and swaddle the infant up tight, slipping a tiny blue hat upon his little head. Nestled in his mother's arms, their little one yawns and snuggles in tight, ready for his first official nap. Toby's seated right beside Spencer on the bed and he glances at their tiny and perfect son, asking, "So… Jack, Samuel or Liam?"

Spencer considers all three before looking at their baby and deciding, "He's a Henry."

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "He's _definitely_ a Henry."

* * *

A day goes by and family members and friends alike come to meet baby Henry and hear, in dramatic detail, the grand tale of his birth. Hanna, Emily and Aria bring flowers and presents and her parents stay for hours, cooing over the little one, and Melissa holds onto him and promises to always be his favorite aunt (Spencer doesn't have the heart to tell her she really doesn't have any competition). Grace and Lilly each take a turn holding their little brother and the kisses and cuddles are endless, so Spencer and Toby know Henry will fit in just fine. She takes a moment to post a picture of the newborn on her Instagram- because it's been a year, now, and she's still obsessed- and she gets couple dozen likes and many comments offering her congratulations. It's been a whirlwind of a few days and she can't wait to tell this little one the story of how he was almost born in the front seat of their family car when he's just a little older.

"You know what the best part of yesterday was, Henry?" Spencer asks him as he looks up at her, wide-eyed. "Besides you finally making your grand appearance, of course. It was that you got me and Daddy out of that terrible party."

Henry coos and drools and she grins. "See, this is something you're going to learn very quickly, but your Daddy's Daddy hasn't ever actually been nice to him. And that's something I never understood, because you and I both know that your Daddy is like the best person on this planet, right?"

The baby smiles and she chuckles. "Right. So you decided you wanted to come yesterday, right in the middle of the party, when you heard your grandfather being super mean to him. And it got me thinking. You and I are going to be a team, we're going to be like partners in crime; we'll be Daddy's defensive duo. No one's going to badmouth him on our watch, right? We'll get jackets made. I'm thinking leather sleeves."

Henry blinks and grins at her and she laughs, kissing his tiny cheeks. "But you don't care what they're made of, do you? 'Cause you're just going to throw up on it anyway!"

A knock on the door interrupts her and when she glances over, her eyes go wide. "Mr. Cavanaugh?"

Daniel nods and enters slowly, a bouquet of carnations in his hand. "Hi Spencer. I, um, I brought these for you."

"Thank you," She says politely and unconsciously clutches the baby a bit closer to her. "Toby's not here. He went to go get us some lunch. Hospital food is disgusting."

"That it is," Daniel nods and then there's silence between them. "Well… Congratulations on the baby. He's very cute."

"Thanks," She says quietly. "I'm sorry I said what I said when we were leaving."

"No," Daniel sighs. "Truth is, you're not wrong. But… I would like to get to know my grandkids. They're the only ones I've got."

Spencer's speechless, a state not many can render her to. Finally, she asks, "Would you like to hold Henry?"

Daniel pauses but nods, setting the flowers down on her bedside table. "I would love that."

She shifts the baby into his awaiting arms and then decides she simply cannot hold it in any longer. "Mr. Cavanaugh… I love your son very much. And I know that you and I don't have many things in common, but that is one of them."

He glances up at her and meets her eyes. They're the same piercing blue as her husband's without the warmth and protectiveness Toby brings. She goes on. "And so is wanting what's best for him. I know you don't think I am. But you have to know that… Your son has done more for me than anyone ever has in my whole life. He's been endlessly supportive, loving, caring, generous, selfless… I could go on and on. He's helped me battle my own demons and pulled me from rock bottom time and time again. He's been my safe place to land for sixteen years. I know you're waiting for me to wake up and walk away. But… You just don't walk away from someone like that."

Daniel is silent and the baby begins to fuss in his arms. Spencer reaches for him instantly and he's back in her arms. "You should be proud of the man Toby's become instead of focusing on the seventeen-year-old boy who moved out of your house, the one who 'threw his life away', as you put it. He's hardworking, he's dedicated, he's determined and he's the best husband and father I could ever ask for. I love him. I _respect_ him. And that's why I hope you'll understand when I tell you that being a part of your grandchildren's lives isn't wholly up to me. It's up to him, too. And I need you to be the father he's always needed before you can be a grandfather. I need you two to reconcile before I let you come near our kids."

Daniel sighs heavily and frowns, but says, "I understand that."

"I hope you do," Spencer nods. "I hope you'll reach out to him, because he says it doesn't bother him anymore, but I know it does. You don't get used to rejection, no matter how many times you've heard it before."

"I'll call him," Daniel says gruffly. "We'll talk."

"Good. I hope it works out," Spencer tells him. "And Mr. Cavanaugh?"

He pauses in the doorway. "What?"

"If you _ever_ treat my kids the way you treat yours, it will be the last thing you ever do," Spencer warns him. "Toby doesn't need me to fight this battle for him, but my children? You best believe I will fight for them, tooth and nail."

"That won't be necessary," He assures her.

She states, "It better not be."

He looks her right in the eye and she swears he's going to say something else, but at long last, he departs without another word. She lets out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding and realizes her hands are shaking. That man still scares the living shit out of her. Glancing down at Henry, she says, "I have no idea how your Daddy came from that man."

And then, another knock on the door signals Toby's return. He's got a bag full of food and an expression on her face she can't read. "You're never going to believe this. I just ran into my Dad downstairs."

"Really?" She feigns nonchalance as he sits beside her and unveils their lunch. "That's strange. What did he say?"

"He offered me congratulations and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner this week," He shakes his head. "I said no, obviously."

"Toby, you have to go," Spencer insists. "Come on, this could be the chance you've been waiting for to finally settle things with him."

"I don't need to sit through a dinner where Heather makes awkward small talk and my Dad continues to badmouth you and our life together," Toby insists. "Her meatloaf certainly isn't good enough to sit through that psychological torture."

"I really think this could be it, though," Spencer prods him even further. "I think he's ready to turn over a new leaf."

Toby eyes her and asks, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Spencer shakes her head. "Can I have your pickle?"

"Yes," He hands it over. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Spencer tells him. "Please just go have dinner with him."

"Okay," He sighs. "Okay, but I'm not going to like it."

"I didn't say you had to like it."

"Seriously, _what_ did you do?"

"We may have had a conversation," Spencer shrugs. "But it's fine. It didn't end badly."

"What did he say to you?" Toby asks. "I swear to God, if he hurt you-"

"He didn't, I promise," Spencer tells him. "I just think this dinner could be good for you."

"Fine," He lets it go. "But can we stop talking about this now? We just had a baby, for God's sake."

"We did," She coos. "A tiny, little, perfect human and we're not having anymore."

Toby chuckles. "That's fine with me. I think our little family is complete, now."

"Henry, we're a bunch of crazies," Spencer tells their son. "Good luck."

Henry lets out a tiny giggle. He's along for the ride.


	14. it hurts at first, but it gets better

**Alright, hey y'all. This is going to be the last update for a while, so don't sue me. It's not the last update forever; this is in no way the last chapter or anything. Like I said, I don't know how long this story is going to be, but I do have a few more tricks up my sleeve. This is just the last one for a while. Regardless of that, I still hope you enjoy. And I still hope you'll continue to read and review and won't lose interest if I don't come back to this within the next week or month or so. I'm always here, even when I'm not. :P**

 **That was hella dramatic. Sorry. Anyway, this chapter title comes from "It Gets Better" by Fun. which is one of my personal favorites of theirs. Oh, who are we kidding? All of their songs are good. Except Stars. We don't talk about Stars. Okay, love you, bye.**

* * *

yes i know it hurts at first, but it gets better

 _Rachel's. Half hour. Emergency_.

In the six years since Hanna had taken Spencer's advice and moved out of Rosewood to the suburbs upstate, the four best friends finally reunited within walking distance of one another's houses after all these years, they had decided that the quaint little café in town would be their meeting place should they ever need to escape the hectic reality of their own lives. They'd decided Rachel's Café would be their emergency getaway and that they would only call an emergency should there be anything drastic happening within the immediate future that they needed the others' advice on. Emily had never called an emergency; she'd come close, once, when it seemed the birth mother of her and Paige's twins wanted to schedule a visitation, but the woman had chickened out last minute and Emily and Paige had never heard from her again. Aria had called an emergency three times; once, when it seemed she and Jason were never to emerge from their rough patch (they'd been fine), once, when she'd been sick for weeks and sure she was dying (she wasn't; she was, instead, 7 weeks pregnant with her son) and once, when out of the blue, she'd run into her father's ex-lover Meredith at Harper's ballet recital (it hadn't ended well). Spencer's called an emergency only once and it was a few years ago to ask advice on how to better socialize her super quiet, extremely introverted middle child. They'd all been pretty stumped on that one.

Hanna, however, calls an emergency about once or twice a week.

Therefore, when Spencer receives this text in the late morning, she completely ignores it. It's an unseasonably cool day at the end of June, school had just let out for the summer, and her mother had taken all three of the children to D.C. with her for the entire weekend. They had grand plans to go to the Smithsonian and the Capitol and the White House and Spencer had spent hours trying to calm Lilly's anxiety while simultaneously battling her own (they'd never been away from her for so long before, but they're sixteen, ten and eight, so she knows they'll be alright) and even longer trying to convince Henry he wasn't going to meet the president and therefore, did not need to pack his three piece suit (he'd packed it anyway). Grace had been buzzing with excitement about the prospect of visiting the nation's capital, listing every landmark she was excited to see and all the history that had been made there, and had charged her camera and cleared her memory card, but her enthusiasm had waned considerably when she'd learned Veronica was taking _all_ her grandchildren on this trip, including Vivian, with whom Grace still butted heads. Needless to say, it had been an interesting couple of hours and they've been gone less than a day, but Spencer already misses them desperately.

On the other hand, she and Toby have the entire house to themselves. For the entire weekend.

She can't remember the last time this happened and that thought alone distresses her.

Her phone buzzes once more on the bedside table beside her and once again, Spencer ignores it. Toby rolls over his side to press a kiss to her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her collarbone. "Is it a client?"

"It's Hanna," Spencer sighs. "She can wait."

Threading her fingers through his hair, she brings his lips to hers and he tastes of indulgence and passion, a sinful combination of salt and sweet. He grins into the kiss and tells her, "This is the laziest we've ever been."

"Nah, we've been lazier. Remember the first forty-eight hours of our honeymoon? We never left the bed."

"Yeah, but we were basically children and we didn't own a house or have bills or responsibilities or _children_ -"

"The children are away," She reminds him, grinning. "Besides, we got things done. I cleaned the pool. You mowed the lawn."

"And end of list," Toby chuckles. "We were going to get the oil changed-"

"There's still tomorrow."

"And clean out the basement-"

"Plenty of time for that."

"And reorganize the garage-"

"Eh, later."

"And power wash the house, because the pollen is still _everywhere_ -"

"I don't know. I think yellow suits us."

"And we still have to pull the weeds and trim the shrubs outside-"

"I guess," Spencer shrugs. "If we have to."

"We don't have to," Toby disagrees. "But we made a list and I know how you are about your lists."

"Yeah, but in _not_ doing those things," She eyes him sultrily. "We had more time to do each other."

Toby bursts into laughter and scrubs a hand over his face. "I cannot believe you just said that. You're seventeen. I'm pretty sure you're still seventeen."

Spencer laughs, too. "I'm sure I'll remember my list eventually, but luckily, sex is a very good stress reliever."

"I don't even know what to say to you," Toby shakes his head and instead presses his lips to hers. "We should get out of bed, though. It's noon."

"It's 11:10," She corrects him and, when the clock changes, herself. "No, it's 11:11. Make a wish."

"People still do that?"

"Lilly reminds me everyday."

"Lilly's ten."

"You literally just said I was seventeen. Play along!"

Toby laughs. "What would I wish for? Everything I want is right here in this bed."

Spencer's grin is a mile wide as she reconnects their lips, her eyes closing in bliss. She doesn't even know how it's possible that they're still this inseparable, this in love with each other, but she's never going to question it. Their embrace doesn't last; Spencer's phone jingles into the late morning sunshine and the woman in question groans irritably and rolls off her husband. Toby sighs and asks, "Hanna? Again?"

Spencer reaches for the phone and frowns. "Yes. She's calling an emergency, but I'll bet anything it isn't. Last time, it was the major crisis of which nail polish she should wear to Ted and Ashley's anniversary dinner."

"Wow," Toby teases. "Did she get through it?"

Spencer chuckles. "With some tears and therapy, she made a full recovery."

With the silencing of her cell phone, they're back to kissing once more. Spencer's heard of couples losing their spark long into their relationship, she's heard of passion dying down and sex becoming less and less frequent as the marriage ages over time, and she's sure this might have happened to her and Toby if they hadn't made alone time a priority a long time ago. She feels for couples with this struggle; really, she does. But it's never been an issue for them and if they keep going the way they are, she knows it won't be. However, before they can fall too deeply into the throes of passion, Spencer's cell phone illuminates and begins to ring. Apparently, Hanna's given up on texting, taking her best friend's radio silence as more of an emergency than the _actual_ emergency. Spencer growls in frustration and Toby kisses her once more before tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Just answer it," He tells her. "It's fine."

"Fine, but she's getting an earful," Spencer shakes her head and silences the incessant ringing, lifting the phone to her ear. "Hanna, _what?_ "

"Did you or did you not see my emergency text?"

"I saw it, okay?" Spencer sighs, pushing back the sheets and comforter and stepping out of bed. "I'm on my way."

"You're at home."

"You don't know that."

"I _do_ know that, because I sent that text forty-one minutes ago and it takes, like, ten for you to get to Rachel's."

"You need to relax," Spencer says and steps into the bathroom, turning on the shower. "Are you or Caleb or McKenzie in any immediate danger?"

"No."

"Are any of you dying?"

"No!"

"Okay, then it's not too bad of an emergency."

"What are you doing? You don't have time to shower! This is an _emergency!_ "

"Jesus Christ," Spencer says. "I will be there in twenty minutes. In the meantime, unload all your crazy on Aria or Emily, okay?"

"It's eleven a.m.! How have you not already showered?"

"I don't know," Spencer shrugs, drawing on the mirror in the rolling steam the same way she tells Henry not to do constantly. "The kids are away this weekend, Toby and I were doing some things around the house-"

"Oh my god. _Oh my god_. I'm having an emotional crisis and you're too busy having sex with your husband."

Spencer smirks but colors, knowing she's been made. "Like you wouldn't do the same."

"Luckily for you, _my emotional crisis_ and your weekend romp have a lot in common."

At this, her eyebrows knit together. "Your emergency has to do with sex with Toby?"

"Jesus Spencer, just take your shower and meet me here in twenty minutes. And do _not_ get back in bed!"

"Okay Mom, bye," She finds herself chuckling and hangs up, setting the phone on the bathroom counter.

She's halfway through her shower when there's a soft knock on the door and Toby enters, his own phone in his hand. "Hey Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me why I just got a text from Hanna asking me if we're still in bed together?"

"Toby," Spencer chuckles. "I really can't."

* * *

"Thank you for meeting me," Hanna greets the three of them the moment they arrive. "Even if I said a half hour and it actually took _fifty-seven minutes_."

"Have you eaten or slept at all lately?" Aria asks immediately. "Your eyes are like popping out of their sockets."

"I am forty years old which is, first of all, ridiculous and second of all, unbelievable," Hanna sighs, reaching for her mug of coffee. "But I still thought I'd have more time before I had to deal with this."

Spencer shakes her head and sits back against the chair, stirring creamer into her coffee. "Walk us through it."

She heaves a dramatic sigh and she's forty, yes; they all are. But Spencer's one hundred percent certain that Hanna will forever be a teenage girl at heart. "Oddly enough, I wasn't kidding when I said your morning exploits with Toby had a lot in common with the subject matter at hand here."

"Wait," Emily cuts in. " _Why_ do you know so much about Spencer's sex life?"

"Oh, while we're all on our sixth cup of coffee waiting for her," Hanna says. "Do you want to know what Spencer was doing in the meantime? Or should I say, who?"

"Uh, no, I got it," Aria shakes her head. "Thank you."

"The kids are away _all_ weekend," Spencer shrugs, defending herself. "What would you have done?"

"Ah, the very same," Aria nods, understanding. "This one time, my Mom took Harper and Frankie for Jason's birthday and we-"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Spencer grimaces. "He's my brother."

Aria rolls her eyes, a grin on her face, and Emily shakes her head. "Why are we talking so much about sex? Are we twelve?"

"Because," Hanna attempts again. "That's what I called you all here to discuss with me."

"Um," Emily bites her lip. "I love you both, but I don't need to hear about your and Caleb's sex life."

"Ugh, it's not about us," Hanna shakes her head. "It's about McKenzie and Grant."

All six of her best friends' eyes widen. Aria utters, "Holy shit."

"Seriously?" Spencer exclaims. "Already?"

"How long have they been dating?" Emily wonders. "A month?"

"Six," Hanna shakes her head. "That's beside the point."

"How do you know?"

"I found condoms under her bed," Hanna groans. "And the OB/GYN, whom I had not even made her an appointment with yet, called to confirm her consultation appointment for birth control. _Birth control!_ "

"Okay," Emily nods. "I was going to talk to you about how we needed to redefine your concept of emergency, but honestly, I would've done the same thing."

"I don't know what to do," Hanna confesses. "I'm justified to be freaking out, right?"

"Yes," Emily agrees but Aria bites her lip.

"I don't know," She says. "I mean, I get being freaked out at the idea, but I still don't think this is an _emergency_. Kids have sex. And it seems like she's being careful, so I don't think you should worry."

"Too late," Hanna tells her and turns to Spencer. "Spence? Input?"

Spencer thinks a moment before asking, "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I don't know what to say," Hanna admits. "My Mom never talked to me about sex. Did yours?"

"No," Spencer shakes her head. "I learned what I learned from TV, books and biology class."

"My Mom assumed I'd wait until marriage because she did," Emily says. "So I'm no help, either."

"Well _my_ Mom gave me the talk," Aria puts in. "But I was thirteen and mortified and blocked it all out. Discussing sex with your parents at any age is horrifying but thirteen? What was she thinking?"

"At least you _had_ a conversation," Hanna says. "I know what I know because I witnessed it, in my own mother. Talk about scarring."

"Wow," Emily sighs. "I think this is the first emergency we haven't been able to solve."

They're quiet a moment before Hanna puts in, "Isn't sixteen a little young? Like… she's a _baby_. She's tiny and young and cute."

"No, she's not," Spencer disagrees. "She's not tiny or young or a baby. You just think that because that's how you'll always see her."

"But-"

"Hanna, _you_ had sex at sixteen," Aria points out. "And at least she and Grant have been dating for a while. You and Caleb barely knew each other."

"Ugh, you're right," Hanna groans. "Why was I _so_ obsessed with losing my virginity?"

"You really were," Aria chuckles. "Is it any surprise McKenzie is too?"

"Like mother, like daughter."

"Oh God, why couldn't she be more like Caleb?" Hanna wonders. "I never thought I'd _ever_ say those words because I swear to God, she's the female version of him, like they were twins in a past life, but this is… This isn't something I'm ready for."

"But she was," Spencer says. "And as hard as it is on you, if McKenzie was ready, then that's all that matters. You raised a good girl. I don't think she would have allowed herself to get pressured into anything."

"And you don't even know that she's done anything yet," Emily points out. "Maybe she's just being prepared. She could be waiting, you know, for the right time."

Hanna scoffs. "Really? Like anyone waits anymore."

"Um, _I_ waited," Spencer points out. "And I'm glad I did. I wouldn't change anything. I waited until I was ready and when it finally happened… It was perfect."

"Oh yeah, you did," Aria says. "You were the last of the group to swipe your V-card, weren't you?"

"Yes I was," Spencer chuckles. "And I regret nothing."

"Yeah," Hanna sighs. "But you've also literally only had sex with one person in your entire life."

Spencer pulls a face. "Um, so have you. And what does that have to do with anything?"

Hanna bites her lip. "Oh yeah. I… I don't know."

"I think she's just rambling now," Emily says. "Look, let's try and figure out how to approach this subject with Kenz."

"Yeah, agreed," Aria nods. "First up, with or without Caleb?"

"Ugh, _without_ ," Hanna shakes her head. "First of all, he is _so_ awkward with these kinds of things and second, can you imagine Kenzie's humiliation? I mean, just picture talking about sex with _your_ dads."

"Uh, yeah," Spencer frowns. "My Dad's caught Toby and I on the verge of sex _numerous_ times so I'm well-versed on this subject."

"Okay, so no Caleb," Aria chuckles. "I think you should just sit her down somewhere and tell you have to have an important talk."

"Where?"

"Not her bedroom. Too many distractions," Emily says. "But not the kitchen table; that seems too formal."

"Outside maybe?" Spencer suggests. "Or the couch?"

"And then I say _what_?"

"'McKenzie, we need to have a conversation'," Aria begins. "'Look, you and Grant have been dating a while now and your relationship is bound to take that next step. And I need you to be responsible and careful and only do what you're comfortable with'."

"Shit, that's good," Hanna nods. "What else?"

"Just remind her that you love her," Emily shrugs. "Remind her that you support her and that it's okay to be curious about sex and to want it. No matter what the media says, as long as she's careful, it's not a terrible, taboo thing."

"Okay," Hanna says. "Okay, that's actually really helpful."

"Also, if she _is_ waiting, remind her that that's okay too," Spencer puts in. "Because she shouldn't ever allow herself to be pressured into something she's not ready for."

"Okay. I'm making a mental note of all of this," Hanna tells them and to Spencer, adds, "And we're in this together, right? You and me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hanna says as if it's obvious. "Grace has a boyfriend, too."

"They've been dating four months. They're hardly serious," Spencer waves it off. "I don't even know if they've exchanged 'I love yous' yet."

"Um," Emily points out. "You and Toby were dating for like two weeks before you said 'I love you'. Just saying."

"Yeah," Aria repeats. "Like mother, like daughter."

Spencer's voice loses conviction when she says, "Grace is not having sex."

Hanna asks, "Well, do you know that for a fact?"

Spencer frowns and a small shake of the head confirms the negative. "No."

"Okay then," Hanna nods. "So we'll both sit down with our girls and give them the talk."

"God I hate the talk," Spencer groans and asks the other two, "You want in on this?"

"Why not?" Aria sighs. "Harper's got to learn eventually."

"Um, anyone want a boy?" Emily asks. "Brynn I can handle but how do I have this talk with Ben?"

"Beats me."

"Make Paige do it?"

"Guys," Aria jokes. "I think we're crushing this parenting thing."

"Ugh," Hanna groans again, but there's a hint of a smile on her face. "Can't we just go back to when we were discussing which pre-school to send them to?"

"Or which potty-training technique worked best?" Spencer suggests.

"Or which brand of diapers didn't worsen a rash?" Emily smiles fondly. "Life was both much harder and much easier when they were little."

Aria nods. "I'll drink to that."

Porcelain clinks together and coffee sloshes in their mugs. Like all else the winding road of parenthood threw their way, this they could never have planned for.

* * *

"Good news," Toby greets her the moment she arrives home with a grin on his face. "I got the oil changed and reorganized the garage, so I think that buys us _at least_ another hour of bedroom time."

Spencer grins back, but something must flicker behind her eyes, because he immediately dons an expression of concern at her words. "That's good, babe. Thank you."

"What's wrong?" He asks without hesitation. "What was Hanna's emergency? What did she do to you?"

"Oh, she reminded me that our teenage girls are teenage girls," Spencer sighs and sinks into the couch. "They're growing up and we can't stop it."

"No, we can't," Toby agrees, sitting beside her and slinking an arm around her shoulders. "But I thought we already knew that."

"She thinks McKenzie's having sex," Spencer sighs out a response. "And she needed advice on how to start the talk and she reminded me that her daughter is not the only one with a boyfriend."

Toby frowns. "Grace isn't having sex."

"We don't know that for sure."

"No, we don't, but…" He trails off and shakes his head. "But Grace isn't having sex."

"Believe me, the idea horrifies me as much as it horrifies you," Spencer smiles ruefully. "But we have to talk about it with her. We have to be sure if she is, then she's being careful. We have to… She has to know about all her options and she has to know that it's _okay_. I didn't; I didn't know _anything_. My parents never gave me the talk and I had to _read_ about it. Did you ever get the talk? Did they…?"

She trails off at the look on his face and suddenly feels a torrent of emotion she wasn't ready for. Anger, guilt, regret, sorrow and so much disgust for Toby's past hits her like a freight train the moment he says, "No. We never talked about anything."

It's been over twenty years and somehow she'd let herself forget that her wonderful, doting, patient, loving husband is a victim of sexual abuse. Just because sex, for her, had always been something she'd revered, something she'd attributed to the love of her life, something she held sacred, doesn't mean that it had been that way for everyone and it certainly hadn't been that way for Toby. Her stomach churns at the thought of him being subjected to that kind of pain and defenselessness and she suddenly feels like the worst person in the world. _How dare she_. How dare she forget when it's all Toby wants and something he'll never be able to do. She doesn't know what to say. She wants desperately to make this better, but there's nothing she can do; there's never been anything she could do. She can hold him and kiss him and love him for eternity and she will. But none of that will erase the past; none of that will fix what's irreparably broken. And nothing pushes Spencer's buttons quite like a problem she cannot solve.

"Oh my God. Toby."

"Spencer, it's fine."

"It's not. It's the exact opposite of fine."

"Don't. It's okay."

"It's _not_ ," She insists and slips away from his embrace to look him in the eye. "All this time… I've been thinking about Grace. I've been worrying about how we're going to talk to her about this; how we're going to talk to all three of them about this. But you… Toby, it didn't even cross my mind."

"Why should it?" Toby asks her. "Spence, it was _years_ ago and I've been nothing but happy since."

"Because," Spencer replies. "Because you being happy _now_ doesn't change the fact that, at one point, you really, really weren't."

"I know," Toby tells her. "Believe me, I know that better than anyone."

Her face must read heartbreak, because he reaches for her as she asks, "What can I do? Please, Toby, just… Just tell me."

"You've already done it," He assures her. "You are the reason I survived that whole thing. You are the reason I was ever able to have a normal, healthy sexual relationship. You are the reason I ever felt loved and wanted and needed. You helped me through it already. I'm not healed and I probably never will be; it's, unfortunately, going to be with me forever. But I am as close as I'm ever going to get and it's all because of _you_."

Spencer takes in his words a moment before saying, "You're a saint, Toby Cavanaugh. You're amazing and you're inspiring and you're an angel. You're incredible. You're everything."

"You're _my_ everything," Toby tells her, collecting her in an embrace. "You're all I ever needed to make it through."

She's quiet as she holds onto him tightly, but he inhales a deep breath before saying, "I just want Grace to know she can tell us anything. I don't want her to feel like she has to hide it and I don't want her to be afraid. I want her to know that… we're always on her side. That no matter what happens, we'll always believe her."

"She will know that," Spencer assures him. "She will. She already does. We'll make sure of it."

After a beat, he asks, "So how do you want to bring it up?"

"Well…" She sighs. "I don't _want_ to bring it up at all. I want to pretend that she's still the little girl who made you pancakes on your birthday and curled up in my lap for her bedtime stories and called us Spencer and Toby instead of Mom and Dad, because that was the cool thing to do, back then."

Toby chuckles. "Can I join you? That sounds incredible."

"Anytime," She smiles. "But unfortunately, she's sixteen, not six. This is reality and knowing how quickly you and I fell into intimacy when we were teenagers makes me want to bring up this topic even more."

"We didn't move _that_ quickly."

"You told me you loved me like two weeks into our relationship."

"I _did_ love you," Toby says defensively. "Sorry if it seemed early, but I wasn't keeping that to myself."

"Please. You don't have to apologize. I was just as bad," Spencer replies. "I loved you, too. Hell, I pawned my sister's wedding ring to buy you a truck. Like… who does that?"

"Crazy, stupid, in-love teenagers," Toby laughs. "So I guess I see your point."

"Well, we did make _one_ smart decision," Spencer says. "Instead of jumping into bed together immediately à la Hanna and Caleb… we waited. And I'm glad we did, because sex was a huge deal for me and I definitely wasn't ready, at the beginning."

"I'm not sure I was, either," Toby admits. "I know you always said it was your idea to wait but… When we first started dating, I was still a mess. I needed that time, too."

She smiles just a bit and then asks, "So… Where does that leave us? With Grace?"

"Well I guess… You'll just sit her down and-"

"Wait," She cuts him off. "You're not going to help me with this conversation?"

Toby grimaces at the mere idea. "I guess I just thought it was a mother-daughter thing."

"Toby! I can't do this alone!" Spencer insists. "Hanna thinks Caleb's too awkward and she doesn't want him involved, but I feel the opposite. I need you there. Grace needs you there, too."

He hesitates. "Does she?"

"I know it's not going to be a _fun_ conversation and I'm dreading it as much as you are," She assures him. "But it has to happen. And I'd feel _so_ much better if you were there with me."

"Okay," Toby sighs. "So _we'll_ sit her down and… I don't know. I guess tell her that as long as she's being responsible, then…"

"Then she can make her own decisions," Spencer finishes. "I mean, you and I took our time, sexually speaking, but once we did… We'd be pretty big hypocrites if we told our daughter she can't have sex as a teenager."

"Yeah and you know teenagers," Toby says. "If you tell them they can't do something, it'll only make them want to do it even more."

"So… as horrifying as the mere idea of our child having sex is," Spencer exhales. "We have to at least tell her we're okay with it even if we're not. Because she's always been open with us, but she won't be anymore if suddenly we're against her decisions."

Toby nods. "You're right."

"Okay," Spencer decides. "So when she gets home tomorrow… We'll figure it out from there."

"It's a deal."

"Okay," She announces again and hops to her feet, extending a hand towards him. "Come on, then. That basement's not going to clean out itself."

"Man, this _is_ fun," Toby jokes, but takes her hand and follows her lead. "The kids should go away more often."

When they return Sunday evening, Grace has a memory card full of photos, Lilly is bursting at the seams with stories to tell her parents and Henry has an armful of souvenirs he'd managed to guilt his grandmother into purchasing for him (truly, it isn't hard when he's the youngest and her only grandson). It seems all of Spencer's anxiety over the children leaving her for the weekend had been unfounded; Grace and Vivian had gotten along without any major spats, Henry hadn't run off on his own as he was known to do and Lilly hadn't called even once crying and begging to come home. They'd had a great time and throughout dinner, it's all they can talk about; which exhibit at the Smithsonian had been their favorite, what the White House really looks like up close and how awesome it was to see real life historical landmarks up close and not just in their history textbooks. Spencer tries hard not to think of how Veronica is a much more involved grandmother than she'd even been a mother and instead chooses to focus upon the quality time her children had gotten to spend with her. They really don't see their grandparents as often as they probably should.

This doesn't, of course, take away from the fact that she and Toby still need to have a conversation with their eldest, however. When dinner is all cleared away and their younger two are settled with a movie in the living room, Spencer nods towards the staircase, the upper level of the home, where Grace had disappeared following their family dinner. Most of the color drains from Toby's face, but he nods in accord and follows her towards Grace's bedroom. Two soft knocks on the door announce their arrival and she calls out for them to come in without hesitation. She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, simultaneously tapping away at the screen of her cell phone and scrolling through Google on her open laptop. Spencer is utterly unsurprised; she's always working. Even though school's let out and she can finally relax, there will always be something to occupy Grace's mind. Music's emanating from her iHome at her bedside, accompanying her work, and Spencer doesn't recognize it. At least, not at first.

 _Gee, Officer Krupke, we're down on our knees! 'Cause no one wants a fella with a social disease! Gee, Officer Krupke, what are we to do? Gee, Officer Krupke, krup you!_

" _West Side Story_?" Spencer asks and Grace nods immediately.

"Musical theater camp starts in two weeks and they haven't announced the show yet," Grace says, not looking up. "But Harper says there's a rumor that it's going to be _West Side_. I'm looking up Natalie Wood and I look _nothing_ like her. How am I supposed to be Maria?"

"Your audition isn't based on your looks, honey," Spencer says, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "This isn't your first show. You know that."

"I know," Grace sighs. "But I have to look the part, too. Maria's Puerto Rican. I have the dark hair, but my skin is very light."

Toby asks, in confusion, "Is this a crisis I wouldn't understand?"

"Yes Dad, because if someone goes in looking like Maria _and_ sounding like her, they're going to get the part over me," Grace explains. "And I'll be stuck in the ensemble."

"You played Sandy last summer and you weren't blonde," Spencer points out. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

"Ugh, don't remind me. The press had a _field day_ ," Grace says and then adds, "Well, the community newsletter. Let's not kid ourselves into thinking this measly summer camp is Broadway."

Spencer chuckles. "You know either way we'll be proud of you."

"I know, I know," Grace waves it off as her phone jingles once more. A different kind of smile comes over her face, then, and she hastily texts back.

Spencer recognizes that look. In fact, she's seen it in herself many, many times before. "Is that Liam?"

"Yes," Grace replies giddily. "He wanted to know I made it home safely."

There's a grin on her face about as wide as Texas and after her message is sent, she glances up at her parents and asks, "Did you guys need something? I doubt you came in here to talk about my getting cast in _West Side_ this summer."

"Actually, yes," Spencer nods and tugs on her husband's hand so he sits beside her on the bed. "Your father and I need to have a conversation with you."

"You do?" Grace asks and then her eyes widen. "Oh my god, are you sick? Are you dying?"

"No, no, we're fine," Toby assures her. "Actually, this has a lot to do with Liam."

"It does?" Grace wonders in confusion. "Dad, you said you were okay with us dating. You promised me you were!"

"I am. Really, I am," Toby insists. "He's a nice kid, he's always very polite when he comes over and he treats you right. He makes you happy and that's all that matters."

"Okay, then…" She trails off and Spencer can see the moment the realization hits her. "Oh my God. Is this the talk? Because we really, really don't have to have that."

"Yes, we do," Spencer says. "You and Liam have been dating for a little while now, and-"

"Oh my God, Mom, seriously," Grace shakes her head. "Can we not do this right now? Can we not do this in front of _Dad_?"

She turns to her father and says, "No offense. I love you, but… I don't want to have this conversation with you."

"I don't want to have this conversation with you either," Toby agrees. "Your mother insisted."

"Mom," Grace exclaims, bewildered. "Seriously? Ew."

"Toby, you _know_ why I want you here," Spencer says and he has to, reluctantly, nod his agreement. "And Grace, look, you're in high school, now, and people all around you are going to be experimenting with sex."

"Oh my God."

"I was talking to Hanna this weekend and she was telling me about McKenzie and Grant-"

"They're not having sex," Grace immediately blurts out. "Or maybe they did while I was away, but as far as I know, they've only just talked about it."

Spencer asks, "How do you know?"

"Uh, she's one of my best friends," Grace replies. "I'm pretty sure she'd tell me."

Spencer thinks back to when Hanna had first lost her virginity, how she hadn't been able to contain herself, and knows her daughter's probably right. "Okay… Well, that'll make Hanna happy."

"Well this has sufficiently made me uncomfortable, but back to you," Toby says. "We want you to be well informed about everything, about all your options, before you decide what it is you want to do."

"And it is completely your decision," Spencer adds. "It's going to feel like everyone around you is having sex, but they're not. You don't have to give in to the pressure. Only do what you want to do and what you're ready for."

"Oh my God," Grace repeats and says, "We're not having sex, okay? We're not. We haven't even talked about it yet."

Spencer finds herself saying, "Oh. You aren't?"

"No," Grace exhales. "We haven't had that talk but when we do… I think I'm going to wait. I don't think I'm ready yet."

Her mother smiles. "That's my girl."

"Oh my God."

"I knew we raised you to make responsible, well-informed decisions."

"Mom, seriously. Stop."

"You are, though? Well-informed?"

"I'm sixteen. I know how sex works, yes," Grace nods rapidly. "I've taken health class and biology. I even won STD Bingo."

Toby balks, "You what?"

"My teacher would describe a disease," Grace explains. "And we'd have to put a token down on the board with the correct STD name. Chlamydia almost tripped me up, but I won. It's basically regular Bingo, but with STDs."

Toby shakes his head and turns to Spencer. "This is what our tax dollars pay for?"

She chuckles. "Well, no, it's good that you bring this up, because if and when you do start having sex-"

"Oh my God, Mom, seriously? We're still on this? I thought the whole STD Bingo thing would throw you off."

"-you have to know that if anything like that were to happen, we're going to be there for you," Spencer tells her. "We're not going to be one of those insane families that kicks you out for getting pregnant."

"Or punishes you for getting syphilis," Toby says. "You can always come to us."

"Okay, thanks, but Liam and I are both virgins and won't be getting syphilis," Grace explains hastily, her cheeks turning pink. "And if you think I'm dumb enough to have sex without protection, you don't know me at all."

"It's not that we're worried about you, Grace," Spencer says. "We're pretty sure you can handle yourself."

"It's just that we wanted to remind you. We wanted to be sure you knew," Toby states. "We will always support you. We will always love you. And we'll always be on your side. You can tell us anything and we will _always_ believe you."

At this, Spencer slips a hand through one of Toby's, squeezing tight. Grace seems to notice the shifting tone, for she replies, very warily, "Okay."

"Okay?" Spencer asks and Grace nods again. "Look, I know this was supremely awkward, but it's important. And we wouldn't be doing our jobs as parents if we didn't have these important conversations with you."

"I know," Grace says. "Thank you, even though this was mortifying and I'm probably going to have nightmares."

They both chuckle and take turns embracing her, kissing her crown. "We love you."

"I love you guys, too."

They set her free and she goes back to texting her friends, listening to show tunes. The bedroom door closes behind them and Spencer exhales heavily. "Okay. Okay, that's done."

"That was awful," Toby scrubs a hand over his face. "We have to do that twice more, too."

Spencer chuckles. "It wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't it?"

"No," She disagrees. "Would you prefer the alternative? Discovering your daughter is sexually active by finding her in her boyfriend's underwear, bright and early, in his own apartment?"

Toby sighs. "Why do you always have to bring that up? That was the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life."

She laughs. "See? _That_ was bad. This? Not so much."

He laughs, too, and sobers a bit a moment later, saying, "I still think sixteen is a bit young to tell her everything that happened with me and Jenna. Even though she's older than I was when it happened, but… We will have to tell her- we will have to tell _them_ \- eventually."

Spencer frowns but nods. Their children know bits and pieces of the horrors that had plagued their father in his childhood, and as they've gotten older, Toby's revealed more and more. But they don't know _everything_ and as much as Spencer wants them to know the whole truth, she simultaneously would love for them to remain in the dark forever. They love their father unconditionally, wholeheartedly and with reckless abandon, just as Spencer does, and they idolize him to the point where Spencer knows news of his past torment would absolutely destroy them. But they make a point of not lying to their children and just as she will, one day, have to tell them everything about Alison and –A, she supposes Toby will have to do the same with his own tragic past. She takes a moment to thank her lucky stars that her children will never have these same stories to share with their own children and then slips her hand into her husband's.

"Do you want to get some wine?"

Toby grins. "Spence, you read my mind."


	15. these small hours still remain

**Hi friends! Did you think I'd left you forever? LOL. Please. You could never get rid of me that easily. :P I'm so sorry I've been MIA for literally two and a half months. But I'm back so that's something, right? Right? Cool. It honestly was really good to take that time away and kind of get in touch with my actual, real life lol. Also I didn't have any ideas. But now I have multiple so expect a few more updates from here on out! Yay!**

 **Thank you for sticking by me and all my craziness. Life got in the way, essentially, but doesn't it always? I realize season 7 starts tomorrow, but you best believe I will not be watching that shit. I prefer to live my life in the fantasy AU I created for Spoby; you know, the one where they live happily after? The one that should be canon? Side-eyeing the writers real, REAL hard. Anyway, thank you to all of you who read and reviewed "Made Up of Multiple Parts" and to those of you who have been reading and reviewing this one. It really means so, so much to me. You have no idea. This chapter title comes from "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas and was a really enjoyable one to write, so I hope it's at least half as enjoyable to read. Thank you and goodnight! :D**

* * *

time falls away, but these small hours still remain

"Henry, just take a bite."

"No! I don't like it!"

"You've never tried it. You don't know that."

"It's gross and green and I _don't like it!_ "

Spencer scrubs a hand over her face, her frustration mounting. "Henry, if you don't eat dinner-"

"Lilly doesn't have to eat!" The five-year-old whines. "Lilly got to have _ice cream_ for dinner!"

"First of all, it was a Popsicle," Spencer says. "And second, Lilly's sick and you know that. Eat your dinner."

"No!"

"Mom, it's a useless struggle," Grace says, typing away on her cell phone and ignoring her own meal. "He's not going to eat anything."

"Are you?" Spencer asks next. "Mind your own business and eat something. And for the last time, put down the phone!"

"I'm full," Grace shrugs and doesn't glance up from her phone.

Toby enters the kitchen, still shaking snow from his coat, and apologizes, "Sorry I'm late. It is _insane_ out there. Took me an hour to get from the firm to the highway."

"I'm _not_ eating that, Mommy!" Henry shrieks again and pushes his plate away. It knocks into his cup and water spills across the table.

Grace leaps back, protecting her phone at all costs. "Good job, Henry!"

Spencer groans and stands, reaching towards the countertop for the paper towels. Toby's eyes widen and he asks, "You could cut the tension in this kitchen with a knife. What's going on? Where's Lilly?"

"Upstairs. She's got strep throat and she's been hacking her lungs out ever since we got back," Spencer explains hastily. "Your son will not touch the asparagus because it's green and he won't touch the meatloaf or mashed potatoes because _they_ touched the asparagus and Grace, I swear to God, if you don't put that phone away and eat some dinner-"

"Mommy," Lilly's voice cuts into the conversation just then. Both her parents turn to find the seven-year-old in the doorway of the kitchen, in her pajamas with tears in her eyes. "I was coughing really hard and I threw up in my bed."

Spencer lets out a long sigh. "And now she vomited, too."

"Wow," Toby says. "I picked the right day to work late, huh?"

Spencer shoots him a look, clearly not amused. "Please get them to eat while I handle this because I cannot do it anymore."

She reaches for Lilly, runs a hand through her hair, and the two disappear upstairs. Toby turns to the table where Henry has irritated tears swimming in his chocolate brown eyes and Grace is stirring her mashed potatoes with her fork. "Guys, this isn't funny. Eat your dinner, do your homework, go to bed. You know the drill."

"It's green!" Henry whines. "I don't like it! It tastes like grass!"

"Yeah, and you know that how?" Grace teases, reaching for her phone again. "When have you ever eaten grass?"

Henry sticks his tongue out at her and Toby says, "You don't look like you're eating it either, so lay off your brother, please."

"I'm not hungry," Grace shrugs, her eyes on the screen and now Toby understands his wife's mounting frustration.

He reaches forward and snatches the phone from her grasp. "We're done with this, thank you. You'll get it back if and when you finish your dinner."

"Hey!" She squeals. "That's not fair! I was texting Brynn!"

"Brynn can wait," Toby says. "Your mother told you numerous times to put it down. It's ridiculous that you even brought it with you to the table."

"Ha ha," Henry says. "You got in trouble."

"Henry, _eat your dinner_ ," Toby says. "Leave each other alone."

"I don't _want_ it," He cries. "I want ice cream!"

"Well, you're not getting ice cream."

Toby stands and heads for the stove, fixing himself a plate. As he eats his own meal, he eyes both his children as they ignore their meals; Henry pokes at the meat and grimaces, pulls faces at the vegetables, and Grace sulks moodily, picking at the cushion of her chair. Finally, as Toby's finishing his dinner, Grace asks, "May I be excused?"

"Yup," Toby nods and hands her phone back. "I don't want to see this thing back at the table again, got it?"

She nods wordlessly and heads upstairs as Henry shrieks, "I wanna leave too."

Toby implores, "Is that how we ask?"

He pouts and mumbles, "Can I be excused?"

"Aren't you hungry?" Toby asks and Henry nods slowly. "Then come on, buddy. Just take a bite for me. You'll never know if you like something if you don't try it."

Henry tentatively reaches for his fork and spears a bit of meatloaf into his mouth. Turns out, he also gets a bit of asparagus on it too and, in a moment that would rival their eldest's dramatics, he reaches for his napkin and spits the mouthful into it. " _Yuck!_ "

Toby sighs. "You're excused."

He pushes back from the table and sprints up the stairs, passing Spencer on the way, her arms full of Lilly's linens. After she loads them all into the washing machine in the adjacent laundry room, she returns to the kitchen where Toby's begun cleaning up dinner. "Did they eat anything?"

"Nope," Toby sighs. "I did my best. They're as stubborn as you are."

"Great. So now I have two starving children, one sick one, a dirty kitchen _and_ puke laundry," Spencer groans. "Why did we have three children?"

"Because we didn't want four," Toby tells her, halfway through loading the dishwasher, and this brings a smile to her face. "Hey, someday, we're going to miss this."

"I _highly_ doubt that."

"Really? I don't," Toby says. "They'll be off at college or married with stubborn children of their own, and I bet then we'll be nostalgic."

"Mm. I don't think so," Spencer disagrees. "I prefer the days when they're healthy and getting along and eating the meals I make for them."

"I'm going to make a list," Toby announces. "Of all the things about parenting that we'll miss when they're not living under our roof anymore."

"And I'll make my own list explaining why your list is bullshit," Spencer tells him. "Better yet, I'll just use your list and while you're busy being nostalgic, I'll be _celebrating_ these things we no longer have to deal with."

Toby chuckles. "It's a deal."

"I'm thinking of a few things I won't miss already."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Traveling," Spencer says. "Traveling with little ones _sucks_. Especially airplane travel."

"Pre-boarding," Toby counters. "Getting on the plane before everyone else is awesome."

"Road trips," Spencer then says. "I hate them."

"Quality family bonding time," He tells her. "Why would you hate that?"

"Children's television," Spencer puts in. "Or worse, children's _music_."

Toby's quiet a moment before nodding, "Alright, I'll give you that one."

Spencer chuckles. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

* * *

Flying was much easier when it was just the three of them; that's the universal truth that Spencer's acknowledged now that they're halfway through their first flight as a family of four. They'd plop Grace right in the middle, right in between the two of them, and she'd color or sleep or watch movies on her father's iPad, the headphones twice the size of her little ears. They do this now, too, but they also have a toddler hopping from her mother's lap to her father's, thoroughly distraught and completely uncomfortable. They've just begun to make their final descent into Pennsylvania when Lilly tugs on her right ear and begins to sob heartbreakingly. It tugs at all of Spencer's heartstrings because she read all about the changing elevation and air pressure and how it affects babies' ears, but reading about it and handling it are two separate things. The worst part is there is absolutely nothing she can do about it. Soon, Lilly's wails are filling the cabin, with everyone around them glancing back at their noisy row, wishing for peace and quiet.

Once upon a time, Spencer had been exactly like this and vowed to never take an infant on a plane. She'd like to go back in time and punch herself in the face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," Spencer coos, bouncing the baby in her arms a bit. "I know it hurts, honey. It's almost over."

Lilly continues to bawl her eyes out, her tiny face scrunched up and red with pain and anguish. Grace frowns from beside her mother and says, "Mommy, she's _really_ loud."

"I know, honey. There's nothing I can do."

"Here," Toby says and gestures for the little one. "Let me try."

Spencer shrugs and shifts the baby into his arms, commenting wryly, "We're _those_ people, Toby. The ones we always used to complain about."

"The ones _you_ always used to complain about," He corrects her, a smile on his face, and she knows he's probably right. He'd never complain about anyone. He begins to rock his youngest daughter, but she squirms, unsettled, in the crook of his arm. "It's okay. I know it hurts. You're all right. You're okay."

From the row behind them, Spencer can hear an older man harrumph, "Marge, how come we _always_ get stuck behind the freaking babies?"

"Hey," The woman who must be Marge replies. "Is it the baby's fault the parents don't how to shut them up?"

Spencer inhales a deep breath and tells herself over and over not to comment, not to react, not to give them the satisfaction of her anger or embarrassment. _They're idiots_ , she tells herself. _They've probably never had a baby and wouldn't know what to do with one_. But she can't take it; Lilly continues to cry and the man groans, "I mean, _seriously_. Stick a cork in it, already!"

Spencer whirls around in her seat, making eye contact with the man through the gap by the window and loudly proclaims, "Thank you for your suggestion! We'll try that next time!"

There's silence in the seat behind her the rest of the trip. Toby shakes his head, "Spencer…"

"I'm sorry," She defends herself. "You know me. I can't keep my mouth shut."

"Mommy," Grace whines, her hands over her ears. "Make her _stop!_ "

"Honey, I can't," Spencer reasons. "She's in pain. You'd cry, too, if your ear hurt that much."

Lilly's curled up against Toby's chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in her tiny fist as she cries, tears soaking through his shirt. Toby's clearly wracking his brain trying to come up with a solution until finally, in desperation, he begins to pat her back rhythmically, singing quietly, " _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away_."

It's her lullaby and has been since they'd brought her home from the hospital over a year ago. Spencer has no idea why she hadn't thought of this, but she joins in on the next verse. " _The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping. I dreamt I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and cried_."

Grace grins and adds, " _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away._ "

" _I'll always love you and make you happy_ ," They chorus together. " _If you will only do the same. But if you leave me to love another, you'll regret it all someday_."

" _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away_."

They sing the song once and then twice and then over and over until they touch down in Pennsylvania. Eventually, Lilly's tears dry sticky on her face and she falls asleep in her father's arms. As they deplane, Spencer takes a moment to thank the nearest flight attendant and apologize for the racket. The woman chuckles, "Oh honey, that's not necessary. I've got twins at home about her age. And the only thing worse than one crying baby is two."

For some reason, this makes Spencer feel _so_ much better.

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"Henry, _oh_ my God."

"Where are we?"

"About two miles from where you last asked."

"Get your elbow _off_ my leg!"

"Guys, I can't hear the movie if you keep fighting!"

"Henry, stop! Mom, he's pinching me!"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Are we there yet?"

Spencer turns to her husband, who's white-knuckling the steering wheel, and asks, "Why did you think this was a good idea?"

"I was just asking myself the same question," Toby replies. "Henry, keep your hands off your sister and _no_ , since we're still driving, we are not there yet. Grace, quit whining, we are all in the same car, things are going to get a little cramped. Lil, if you turn the dial on your headphones, you can turn the volume up and hear the movie even better. Everyone _relax_."

And it works, if only for a little while. About ten minutes later, Henry asks, "Are we there yet?"

" _No!_ Obviously not!"

"I'm bored!"

"Just watch the movie!"

"The movie's _boring!_ "

"I'm hot. Mommy, can you turn up the air conditioner?"

"No way! I'm freezing!"

"No you're not!"

"Uh huh! I've got goose bumps!"

"Are we there yet?"

"When we get to the Grand Canyon," Spencer says, reaching for the air conditioning and turning it up halfway. "I'm jumping in."

Toby shakes his head. "I'll race you."

* * *

He's finally managed, somehow, to pry the baby away from Spencer so she can get some much needed sleep, but now that he has, he's not sure what to do next. Since the moment Grace was born, Spencer had remained vigilant, feeding and diapering and caring for her, and watching over her daughter as she slept, her tiny chest rising and falling. Unfortunately, this had meant she hadn't gotten any sleep herself and now, their first full night at home, Toby had insisted. It isn't healthy for her to deprive her body of the rest she craved and though she'd put up a fight, he'd won. With Grace recently fed and mostly happy, Toby leaves an exhausted Spencer fast asleep in their bed and cradles the infant ever so gently on the couch, the television on but merely just background noise. He isn't paying attention to anything but the little one in his arms, this tiny little girl who had instantly stolen her father's heart.

Spencer sleeps for hours and he's glad. When the sun sinks below the horizon, Toby decides to change Grace into a cozy sleeper and out of the playful romper she'd come home from the hospital in. He lays her delicately on the changing table and slips off her tiny outfit, tossing it aside. Her diaper's dry for the first time in hours and he grimaces at the sight of the dried stub of her umbilical cord spiraling from her belly button. He knows it'll fall off on its own in a few days but it still isn't a pretty sight to look at. There's a sleeper draped over the arm of the rocking chair and Toby very carefully tucks his daughter into it, pulling her arms through the sleeves and slipping her feet in as well and then he comes to the most difficult challenge yet- all the snaps.

This is a onesie for a newborn and yet he's already counted about twelve of these snaps. He doesn't understand why baby clothes have to be so damn complicated. Toby sighs and Grace gurgles below, drooling the tiniest bit as her father struggles to snap all the tiny buttons together and with their rightful partner. It takes him longer than he'd care to admit and he has to undo at least three of them as they do not snap in the correct place. Grace begins to fuss but he's almost done; he's struggling with a particularly difficult one right by her left knee and when he finally gets it to snap closed, her entire face contorts in pain and she lets out a pained scream. Toby's eyes widen in bewilderment and that's when he sees it- he's snapped the onesie in the right place but he's captured some of her skin with it. Immediately he unsnaps her, freeing her poor delicate skin, and scoops her into his arms, bouncing her as gently as he can.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," He apologizes. "You have to cut me some slack, Gracie. This is my first time. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a rookie."

"That's what you want to hear."

He whirls around and Spencer's standing, zombie-like, in the doorway. "What did you do to her?"

"I couldn't get all the freaking snaps and when I tried, I pinched her skin," Toby replies in anguish. "I was not cut out for this."

"Oh yeah, because one's ability to be a father directly correlates to his ability to snap a onesie together," Spencer teases and motions for the infant. "Let me see."

"Maybe you should dress her from now on."

"Toby, it's _fine_."

"I hate baby clothes."

"Apparently, they hate you too."

"I hurt her."

"It was an accident," She assures him. "And look, she doesn't even remember. She'll be fine. It's our first kid; this stuff is going to happen."

He watches as Spencer manages to snap all the tiny little buttons together and then hands him the baby. "All good?"

"Yeah," He nods once the little one settles in his arms again. "All good."

* * *

Her body feels like it was hit by a freight train.

No, even that doesn't quite begin to cover it. It feels like she's been hit by a freight train, tucked against the underbelly of the locomotive and then dragged along the tracks for fifty feet. Muscles she didn't know she had are sore, she's _still_ bleeding even now, twenty-four hours later, and the exhaustion is at a physical level; lifting her head takes extreme effort, blinking is a chore. The hospital is always so quick to discharge, these days, and she's anxious to be back at home with her brand new infant and she misses her daughters dearly and she can't wait until their family of five, now, is complete, but a part of her had really, really hoped for some rest. She knows sleep will be a thing of the past from here on out. Toby promises her he'll take the girls out to the park or for ice cream or _somewhere_ so she can get even a semblance of rest the moment they get home, and as inviting as that sounds, she really doesn't want him going anywhere. She doesn't want _any_ of the members of her family going anywhere anytime soon.

And actually, they don't get the chance.

" _Surprise!_ " Grace and Lilly shriek the moment Toby opens the front door, Spencer cradling the infant beside him. There are balloons and gifts and all their family members are all there, awaiting the newest arrival. Everyone has expectant grins on their faces and there's food on the coffee table and the house smells like cinnamon, like fall, even though it's barely August. Her parents are there, at the forefront, with Grace hopping excitedly beside Peter and a look in Veronica's eyes that already reads, _hand over that baby and no one gets hurt!_ Jason's bouncing Lilly in his arms and she's giggling her sweet little laugh and noticeably absent are Toby's father and stepmother, too, though no one's very surprised. Melissa's got an arm around Vivian's shoulders and Wren's arm's around her and Spencer has the sudden feeling that she's being suffocated. She supposes being suffocated by love isn't the worst thing, but she had _kind of_ wanted her homecoming to be much quieter and much more relaxed. This isn't the way she'd pictured introducing Henry to the world; the last thing she wants to do is pass him around like a plate of hors d'oeuvres. The mere thought brings tears to her eyes and _God damn it_ , these hormones are never going to leave her alone.

"Wow, this is…" Toby manages to say a moment later. "A surprise."

Good. He's not exactly pleased with the spectacle, either. Spencer always knew their minds were connected, somehow. Grace leaps into his arms in greeting, stating proudly, "I picked out the balloons! And there's cake, too!"

"I made you a lasagna," Veronica says. "And a few other things you can heat up for the next couple of days, because you're not going to want to cook for a while."

Spencer nods slowly, clutching her son closer in response, the damp weight of the newborn feeling almost heavy already. "Thanks."

"I noticed there weren't any sheets on the crib-"

"Because he'll be sleeping in the bassinet by our bed."

"-so I did a load of laundry and put some fresh sheets on for you. I did a second load, too, and got the girls' clothes out of the way," Veronica states as the crowd disperses just a tad. "You were really behind on your laundry, Spencer."

"I was a little busy forcing a nine-pound human out of my vagina."

Veronica purses her lips and Toby smirks wryly beside her. "Well. I'm just saying-"

"Can I please sit down?" Spencer begs her mother and steps around her family towards the couch. She settles herself and in a moment, Lilly squirms free and pulls herself up to join her. Kissing the very top of Lilly's head, she snuggles two out of her three beautiful little ones close to her as everyone else goes on. Grace has already pulled her father and beloved uncle into a rousing game of _Chutes and Ladders_ , the newest addition to her board game collection that her baby brother had gifted her with upon his arrival. Well, sort of. Spencer had read somewhere it would make the transition easier, and so Grace had received a board game and Lilly had been presented with a baby doll she could hold and feed like her own brother and so far, they seem pretty okay with it.

Melissa sits beside her on the couch, watching as Grace reluctantly allows her cousin to join the game, and opens with, "Nine pounds? Seriously?"

"The biggest one so far," Spencer remarks, a finger of hers trailing the baby soft skin of his cheek. "And, strangely enough, the easiest delivery, despite the fact that it almost happened in the car."

"Yeah, you really cut it close there, didn't you?" Melissa replies. "I'm still shocked you managed to do it again. _And_ again."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, once was enough for me," Her sister explicates. "The minute Vivian was out of me, I was like, sew me up, take my ovaries, do what you've got to do. I am _never_ doing that again. It was like bamboo shoots under your fingernails… But… _down there_."

"Vagina," Lilly echoes and Melissa's eyes widen and Spencer colors, but nods. Her two-year-old is a sponge and she should've known better and watched her filthy mouth.

"Oh, we learned a new word today, didn't we, Lil?" Spencer chuckles, tickling the girl's belly. "Why don't we stick to 'baby brother' and 'Henry'? The G-rated words we taught you?"

"Speaking of Henry," Melissa says and Spencer can tell she's already not going to like this. "What's the deal with the present thing? Aren't you just spoiling them?"

 _You're one to talk_. Spencer has to physically bite her tongue to keep from saying the words. "We just thought it might be nice if they got something, too. Everyone comes over to pay attention to Henry and they might be feeling a little… I don't know. Left out."

"I don't understand how that's beneficial."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it."

"Whatever," Melissa shakes her head. "I can see you still haven't worked with Grace on the whole sharing concept."

"Haven't I?" Spencer disagrees. "Or is Vivian _not_ playing with her right now?"

"Not without argument," Melissa frowns. "And Lilly's stranger danger is getting out of hand. She wouldn't let _anyone_ but Jason go near her, earlier. Do you know how unhealthy that is?"

"Jesus Christ, did you come over here to be the welcome wagon?" Spencer asks. "Or judge me for _literally_ every single thing I do as a parent?"

Melissa shrugs. "I'm just saying!"

The baby squirms against her, agitated as she is, and Spencer shakes her head. "Well, don't 'just say'. This is my third kid. I think I can handle it."

Lilly reaches her tiny hand out and strokes the hair atop Henry's head. "Baby!"

"Yeah, your baby brother!" Spencer encourages. "What's your brother's name?"

Lilly glances at her mother for a moment before echoing, "Vagina!"

Spencer smirks. "No, baby. Henry. Henry. This is baby Henry!"

There's silence for just a moment before Melissa says, "You _really_ shouldn't let her talk like that."

And Spencer stifles a scream.

* * *

She's at her wit's end with this kid.

"Henry," Spencer sighs, sitting on a stool shaped like a giraffe on the bathroom floor, her elbows propped against her knees, her chin in her hands. "Are you _ever_ going to go?"

"No go, Momma," He shakes his mass of curls. "No go!"

"All your friends are going potty," Spencer says. "Your friends and your teachers and your sisters. Even Mommy and Daddy."

Henry considers this and shakes his head again. "No."

"You're a big boy, aren't you?" Spencer wonders. "Big boys go on the potty."

"I a baby," Henry grins deceptively. "Baby, Momma."

Okay, so that part's _probably_ her fault. She's referred to him as her baby since the moment he left the womb and deep in her heart of hearts, she knows he'll be her baby until the day she dies. She really needs to come up with a less misleading nickname. Or perhaps, he just needs to be easier to toilet train. It's been months and months of trying and they're getting nowhere; he's pushing two and a half and he's one of the last in his class at daycare to be trained and it's making Spencer feel like a total failure as a mother. She doesn't quite understand. Grace had been dreamfully easy, Lilly had been in underwear just after her second birthday, and yet, here's her darling baby boy, sitting on the plastic training toilet wearing absolutely nothing, and grinning at her with that smile that melts her insides every time. She loves this kid to death, but it's no secret he's been the most difficult of them all. When Lilly was in her toddlerhood, Spencer had read an article entitled "Dear Two-Year-Old: I love you, but I don't like you" and though it had made her chuckle, she hadn't understood the audacity of that parent to complain in such a way. But then again, she hadn't yet seen the extent of the terrible twos.

Today, Spencer's beginning to understand where that woman's coming from.

"Can you go potty, please?" Spencer asks nicely, wondering if this will get her anywhere. She isn't expecting much; bribery had done nothing, ultimatums made him laugh, and he'd merely stared at her through everything else. "Please, Hen, I'm begging you, here."

"No." He flat out replies. "No go! No!"

"Fine," Spencer sighs and stands, cracking her back. "You sit here, okay? You sit here until you go."

Henry nods like he understands, but then goes to get up. "Book, Mommy! I get a book?"

"Oh yeah? Do you need to catch up on your Dr. Seuss?" Spencer jokes, but agrees, ducking into his bedroom to retrieve a handful of reading material. She presents them to him and gently sits him back on the potty. "Sit. Go. You really need to take a nap at some point today."

"No nap," Henry disagrees as he reaches for his first book and learns all about the Who that Horton hears.

Grace and Lilly are in the basement watching a movie and the snow is swirling outside and Spencer has so much to do, she can barely keep track of it all. She begins to get to work on her chores and every few minutes, she pokes her head into the bathroom and finds Henry reading a new book or singing a song to himself or counting his fingers and toes. It warms her heart and infuriates her, all in one. And she knows what they'll _all_ say; "Perhaps he isn't ready" or "You should really take cues from the child, you know? They'll let you know what they can and can't do." She's heard it all before and it's bullshit, really. Henry's ready. He's done it before. He wakes up every morning and after every nap with a dry diaper and he's already picked out underwear with racecars on them. He's ready. He's just _stubborn_ as all hell. If Spencer tells him to do something, he does everything in his power _not_ to do it. And somewhere deep down, a voice is telling her she was the very same way, as a child. _Karma_. After a few moments, Spencer goes back to check on him one more time, and her eyes widen the moment she opens the bathroom door.

His books are scattered around the tile and Henry is nowhere to be found.

"Hen?" Spencer calls down the hall and gets nothing but chilling silence in return. "Henry? Where'd you go? Where are you?"

She searches under the two sinks and inside the bathtub. She checks in Grace's room and in Lilly's. She looks in the linen closet and in his bedroom and under her and Toby's bed to no avail. All the closets remain without Henry inside them and when she steps into the hall, she notices she'd left the baby gate at the top of the stairs ajar. "Oh shit."

Spencer hears a squeal and a shriek emanating from downstairs. Following that, Toby's voice, " _Oh my god_."

She takes the stairs two at a time, assuming the worst, and when she reaches her boys in the foyer, it appears mostly tranquil. Naked Henry is in his father's arms and he's giggling profusely, but Toby's face is screwed up into a grimace. "I thought your days of peeing on me were over, Hen."

It's then that Spencer sees the dampened portion of Toby's button down as Henry grins, triumphant. "I go, Momma! I go!"

"Yeah, you did," Spencer shakes her head. "All over Daddy."

"Well, at least we know what he really thinks of me," Toby jokes. "This is a nice shirt, too."

"It is, but it's plaid and to be fair, you have like a hundred of them."

"But this one's my _favorite_."

"Must be Henry's, too," Spencer chuckles. "He's marking his territory."

* * *

"Dad, you can't get those bananas. You have to get the organic ones."

"Because…?"

"Because those are the ones Mom always gets."

"The organic ones are six dollars. I can get eight regular bananas for eight-nine cents."

"Yeah and we'll probably get like E. coli or mad cow disease or something from them."

"You can't get either of those things from anything but meat, Hen."

"Oh yeah? Has that been scientifically proven, Lil?"

"Guys," Toby sighs. "Does anyone even eat bananas anymore?"

"I like them in my cereal," Henry says. "And for a snack after school."

"Grace and I used to split one in half," Lilly frowns. "To make a peanut butter and banana sandwich."

"Yeah, but Grace is away at school." Henry points out and Lilly sighs.

"Don't remind me."

"Moving on," Toby shakes his head, tossing the bananas into the cart. "We need eggs and bread… What the heck is this?"

Lilly leans closer to read the chicken scratch writing at the bottom of the list and then frowns at her brother. "Henry! Dad's not going to buy you brownie mix. Your handwriting doesn't even look like Mom's."

"I need brownie mix, though!" Henry says. "I have to make a treat to go along with my project on Mexico."

"Brownies did not originate from Mexico."

"Yes they did. I read it somewhere."

"Where? Wikipedia?"

"You guys," Toby sighs. "First of all, do you argue this much when Mom does the grocery shopping?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Pretty much."

"Second," Toby goes on. "Since _when_ do you two disagree this much? You've never acted this way in all the years you've had each other."

Lilly shrugs, quiet, and Henry offers, "Well… I can't annoy Grace anymore, can I? I have to bug someone. It's my job. I'm the youngest _and_ the only boy."

Toby shakes his head, a smile on his face. "Can we at least make it out of the produce section without a blowout?"

They agree and then Lilly whispers, "Mom would _kill_ you if you bought boxed brownie mix, you know."

"You're right," Henry agrees. "She always says we make things from scratch or we make nothing at all."

Toby chuckles. "She's taught you well. _Too_ well, I'm afraid."

They make it through the rest of the list, picking up the essentials and a few non-essential items, before heading to the checkout counter. When all is said and done, the cashier announces brightly, "Your total is a hundred and twenty-seven dollars and twelve cents."

Toby's eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. "A _hundred_ and twenty-seven dollars?"

The cashier is a bit taken aback but she nods. "Yes, sir."

He glances at Lilly, who seems unfazed, and Henry, who asks wryly, "So that's a no on the brownie mix, right?"

"Well, you better hope Grace learns a lot and comes back from college armed and ready to teach you everything she knows," Toby says, sliding his credit card and sealing his fate. "Because with grocery bills like these, I won't be able to afford to send either of you two to school."

Henry frowns. "Stupid organic bananas."

* * *

There are absolutely no words in the English language to describe the cesspool of germs that is Chuck E. Cheese's.

Truthfully, Lilly had surprised her mother by even wanting to come to this birthday party in the first place. In her seven years of life, Spencer had learned that forcing her to go to the parties her classmates invite her to is futile and instead to allow her to make the decisions herself on whether or not to attend. Today's party is for a child Lilly barely knows, the new kid in her class who'd been in the state for all of about twenty minutes, and when Spencer asked how come this party differed from all the others, her ever so selfless middle child had said, "Because he doesn't have any friends yet and what if no one else comes to the party?" It was hard to argue with logic like that. Lilly had picked out a birthday present and wrapped it herself, signed the card with her name in her shockingly pristine handwriting, and then they were off, trudging to the grossest establishment Spencer has ever set foot in.

Immediately, the smell of over-processed cheese wafts into her nostrils and she feels like she's going to be sick. Sugar-high children are racing from arcade game to arcade game, barefoot and shrieking, and an eight-foot anthropomorphic mouse is taking a picture with a family in a sticky vinyl booth. Spencer is horrified, honestly. There's phony costumes and an animatronic band of rats and other unidentifiable animals singing hit songs with the lyrics changed to fit the theme of the restaurant and so many sights and sounds, it's making her head spin. Coins jingle in plastic cups and there's a giant birthday cake with 'Happy Birthday Evan!' in green icing on the table before her as Lilly places her present down in the pile with all the rest. The little boy who must be the birthday boy greets her excitedly and invites her to come play, racing off into the craziness as Lilly hesitates just a bit, her social anxiety never ceasing, before stepping closer.

"Lil," Spencer stops her just a moment. "Please keep your shoes on."

"But Mom," Lilly replies. "I have to take them off to go in the playground."

"The what?"

"The playground," Lilly repeats and points behind her towards the giant construction of plastic and vinyl, complete with slides and a ball pit that would easily put any McDonald's to shame.

Spencer's eyes widen and instead of seeing the fun and adventure Lilly might have, she instead sees a host of communicable diseases. _Influenza. Norovirus. Common cold. Strep throat. Chicken pox_. She swallows hard and says, "Okay, well… Go. Have fun, babe."

She grins and races off with a couple of her classmates as Spencer twists her wedding ring nervously around her finger. This place is a disgusting germ-infested trap and she makes a promise to herself, right then and there, that the next time one of the kids has to attend a birthday party here, Toby will take them. His stomach's always been stronger than hers. After an hour or so, Lilly returns and Spencer immediately shakes a bottle into her hands. "Purell. Immediately. Rub your hands together."

Lilly does as she's asked and says, "We climbed all the way to the top and then jumped into the ball pit. It was super scary but so fun."

"Wow, that was really brave," Spencer grins. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah! Lots!" Lilly beams. "We're going to play some games now!"

Spencer pictures all the hands that have touched the mallets, the skee balls, the coins, and hands her the bottle of hand sanitizer. "Here. Just take the bottle."

Lilly giggles but accepts it and races off again. A mother from beside Spencer snorts and says, "You a doctor, or something?"

"Or something," Spencer shrugs. "Not concerned with the germs, are you?"

"Honey," The mother chuckles. "There isn't enough Purell in the world."

* * *

He's been through a lot in his life; good, bad, and otherwise. But nothing could have prepared him for this kind of pain.

"Oh my god. _Oh my god!_ " Grace is shrieking. "Dad, it's okay! Just stay with us, okay? Don't go into the light!"

"Sit down! Sit down!" Lilly shrieks. "Oh my god, Gracie, there's _so_ much blood!"

"I know! I know, okay?" Grace shouts back. "Henry, go get the roll of paper towels."

"Daddy," Henry's sobbing. "Daddy, are you okay?"

" _Henry!_ " Grace screeches. "The paper towels quick! Or Dad's going to get blood all over the floor!"

Henry scurries off into the kitchen as Grace looks at her father and says, "Dad, it's going to be okay. I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel once where they had to sew up a lion after emergency surgery so I can handle this."

"Grace," Toby hisses in pain. "Please don't sew anything. Especially into my skin."

"The blood is dripping," Lilly announces. "Ew, it's _everywhere_."

Grace turns in the direction of the kitchen and shouts, " _Henry!_ "

Henry comes slinking back in, the roll of paper towels tucked under his arm, tears still pouring down his face. "Daddy… Daddy, are you okay?"

"No, he's _not_ okay," Lilly says. "Look at his _foot!_ "

"This isn't working," Grace shakes her head, mopping at the blood. "It's not stopping the bleeding."

"It's still in his foot! Gross!"

"Daddy… Daddy!"

"Stay with us, Dad," Grace repeats and then yells, " _Mom!_ "

"Grace, I'm not dying," Toby tells her, but the pain would suggest otherwise.

"That's right, that's good, stay positive," Grace nods and again screams, " _Mom!_ "

"What? What is going on?" Spencer says, stepping hastily into the living room a moment later. When she catches sight of the scene in front of her, her expression fades into one of confusion. " _What_ is going on?"

"Dad stepped on a Lego," Grace says. "It's literally still in his foot."

"There's _so_ much blood," Lilly adds, her face pale. "There's _so_ much and it won't stop!"

"How the _heck_ did you manage that?" Spencer asks, kneeling beside her husband and peeling back the bloody paper towels to inspect the wound.

"I asked Henry to pick them up," Toby responds in a painful litany, his face still scrunched in agony. "Needless to say, he didn't."

"I was going to," Henry defends himself. "I was going to but I forgot and now Daddy's hurt!"

"Yeah he is," Grace frowns. "And it's _all_ your fault."

Henry bursts into a fresh set of tears as Spencer shakes her head. "Grace, you aren't helping. Lay off him."

"Henry, it's okay," Toby replies, grimacing the tiniest bit. "I'll be okay."

"Do you think you can hobble your way to the bathroom so I can get a better look at it?" Spencer asks and when Toby nods carefully, they all help him up, Lilly cautiously following after him to catch any blood that might drip after him like a trail. With antiseptic and a sterilized pair of tweezers, Spencer removes the Lego piece and begins to patch him up. She says, "Well, on the plus side, you scared Henry into picking up all of his toys for the rest of his life."

"Yeah, here's the thing though," Toby says. "Why in God's name is something that's supposed to be a children's toy so _damn_ painful?"

Spencer smirks. "To remind you of who's really in charge, here."

* * *

There really aren't many times that Toby feels like a terrible parent and for everything he'd expected, he's honestly surprised by this fact.

This is, unfortunately, one of those times.

Spencer and the girls are in New York City for the weekend enjoying a girls' trip, leaving Toby all alone with their three-year-old daughter. He'd been excited for her because she hadn't seen all three of them together in a long time and she'd been excited, too, but he knows she's anxious about leaving her baby girl, because she's been texting nonstop since she left asking after every last detail. It's a bright sunny Saturday afternoon and earlier on, Toby had met up with Caleb at the local park, watching Grace and McKenzie play together and laugh without a care in the world. He does text Spencer back in response, gives her all the answers she's seeking, and then tells her to enjoy herself and stop worrying so much. He knows she probably won't. Regardless, Caleb and McKenzie had left about a half hour ago and Toby had allowed Grace a bit longer of a playtime, but now it's getting late and they need to get home so he can get dinner started. And thus, all the trouble began.

"Gracie, it's time to go home," Toby announces to his little monkey as she swings from bar to bar. "We're going to go have dinner!"

"No!" Grace replies. "I don't want to go! I'm not hungry!"

"We've already gotten plenty of playground time," Toby tells her. "It's time to go."

"No!" Grace disagrees and hops to her feet, the gravel crinkling beneath her. She tears off towards the playground and climbs up to the very top. "I'm not going!"

"Grace Marion, that's enough. Knock it off," Toby scolds. "Get your monkey butt down here. We're going home."

"Nah uh!" Grace squeals and instead, she slides all the way down and races to the swings. "I don't wanna go!"

"Grace, I'm going to count to three," Toby announces. "If you aren't over here by the time I'm done, you're going in time out when we get home."

" _No!_ " Grace cries from the swing, remaining motionless and kicking her feet. "No time out!"

"You'll go to the step. Do you want that? Do you want to sit?"

" _No!_ " She's bawling now, kicking furiously at the gravel and shrieking at the top of her lungs. " _No, Daddy!_ "

"Grace, _one_ ," Toby begins to count and Grace screams even louder. "Two…"

" _No!_ "

"Three," Toby frowns and steps closer to his daughter, who then proceeds to throw herself onto the ground, kicking and screaming, her face red with anger. Tears are pouring down her cheeks and the screams emanating from her tiny body are hitting decibel levels only dogs can hear. Families all around the park are glancing over at them, their faces as judgmental as you can get, and Toby frowns. _I'm not as awful a parent as I look_ , his subconscious pleads with them, but he does what he can to ignore their looks. Strapping her into her car seat with difficulty, Toby tells his daughter, "Grace, the minute we get home, you're sitting on the step."

" _No!_ "

"Yes you are. You're going in time out," Toby tells her. "That's _enough_."

She cries the whole way home, she kicks at him when he tries to extricate her, and then she screams some more the moment he sits her on the bottom step of their staircase. As he crafts their dinner of choice, she continues to scream, louder and louder, and it kills him, but she knows their rule; the longer her tantrum lasts, the longer she sits. As he's setting the table, his phone jingles on the countertop and when he checks, it's a message from Spencer:

 _I miss you guys! How's everything going?_

 _Today we had a tantrum of epic proportions_ , Toby types back. _I told her we needed to leave the park thirty minutes ago and she's been screaming ever since. Miss you too. Come home soon_.

After a minute, Spencer replies, _Actually, I think I'll just stay here. Good luck with that. Let me know how it works out._

* * *

They're reading on the couch when Grace asks an insightful question. "Daddy?"

"Yes, monkey?"

"There's a baby in Mommy's belly, right?"

Toby chuckles. "Yes there is."

"Was Lilly in Mommy's belly, too?"

"Yes she was," Toby says, tickling Lilly's belly, who giggles tiredly in response, curling further into her father's lap. "It wasn't that long ago, remember?"

"Yeah," Grace nods. "And was I in Mommy's belly, too?"

"You were," Toby tells her. "You were the first baby to ever be in Mommy's belly."

"Do all babies come from mommies' bellies?"

"Yes, they do," Toby replies, trying to keep up. Grace is always chock full of questions and most of the time, he struggles to answer all of them to her complete satisfaction.

"But Daddy," She glances up, her piercing blue eyes identical to his own. "How do babies get in there?"

No. Nope. He is _not_ ready for this conversation. Not yet. "You know what, Gracie? That's a really good question for Mommy."

"Why?"

"Because she's the one who's had three babies in her belly and I haven't."

"Why?"

"Because daddies can't have babies. Only mommies can."

"Why?"

"Because that's just the way it works, Grace. I'm not sure why."

"Does Mommy know?"

"If anyone knows, Mommy will," Toby tells her. "Your Mommy knows everything."

And as if she's been summoned, Spencer appears in the doorway just then. "Oh, here you all are. You've got to let me know when we have these family meetings. What are we reading tonight?"

"I picked one for the baby," Grace says. "But also I have a question and Daddy didn't know the answer so I have to ask you 'cause you know everything."

"I don't know everything, sweetheart," Spencer smirks in amusement. "Your Daddy exaggerates."

"But can I still ask?"

"You can ask me anything."

"Babies come from mommies' bellies, right?" Grace probes and when her mother nods, she adds, "But how do they get in there?"

To Toby's surprise, Spencer doesn't falter for even a second. "That's a great question. Gracie, do you know what people are made of?"

"Cells," Grace answers matter-of-factly. "Trillions and _trillions_ of them. That's what Mrs. Kendall said."

"Mrs. Kendall is right. And do you know what's in those cells?" Spencer asks and Grace shakes her head. "It's something called DNA. And each person's DNA is different. They get half of their DNA from their Mommy and they get half from their Daddy. When the DNA combines, it creates the cells and when the cells combine, they create the baby."

"Oh," Grace nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"And the baby keeps growing and growing in the Mommy until they're ready to come out?"

"Exactly."

"But how does the DNA get in there in the first place?"

Toby watches the cogs turn in Spencer's brain as she tries desperately to come up with a clean way to explain reproduction to an eight-year-old. "Well… It happens when a Mommy and a Daddy make a decision to combine their DNA to make a baby. They talk about it and decide it's a good idea and they have some Mommy and Daddy time and that's what happens."

"Mommy and Daddy time?" Grace pulls a face. Even at eight, she knows what that means. "Where you guys kiss and stuff?"

"Yes, Gracie, where we kiss and stuff," Spencer teases and Grace sticks out her tongue, mildly grossed out. "Is that good? Do you have anymore questions?"

She shakes her head and reaches for the book that's fallen from Toby's grasp. Toby glances at his wife, impressed, and says, "That was incredible. And mildly horrifying."

"You're welcome," Spencer says instead. "And if you thought that was bad, just wait until the real thing."

* * *

They pull into their driveway a little after ten p.m. The backseat has long since fallen quiet.

It's the first Thanksgiving they'd ever spent with Toby's side of the family and it had been interesting to say the very least. His stepmother had raced about, talking much too loud and much too fast and trying to do everything she could to make things perfect. When Spencer offered to help- first with setting the table and then with clearing the table and finally, with serving dessert- she had reacted as though someone had personally offended her and there wasn't really anything Spencer could do to make things better. Daniel and Toby had had awkward conversation throughout the entire dinner, Grace and Lilly had eaten their meals in silence, and when his parents called Jenna halfway through dessert, Toby had reached for Spencer's hand and never let go. They aren't sure if this will become an annual tradition, but if it does, Spencer's pretty sure she's going to need alcohol, next time.

They live about an hour and some change outside of Rosewood and so all three of their little munchkins are passed out cold by the time they return home. This of course presents them with the daunting task of removing their kids from their car seats without awakening them.

Grace stirs the moment they park inside the garage and asks, groggily, "Are we home yet?"

"Yes, honey. We just got back," Toby replies, tousling her hair. "Go put your pajamas on and brush your teeth. We'll be right up."

She nods compliantly, her voice still thick with sleep when she says, "They're gonna wake up."

"They're _not_ going to wake up," Spencer disagrees as Grace trudges into the house, the door shutting behind her.

Toby says, "They're _so_ going to wake up."

"Yeah, without a doubt." Spencer sighs. "Okay… If I-"

"I call Henry."

"Um, first of all, _no_. And second of all, that's _so_ not fair," Spencer replies. "He's like you. He could sleep through a tornado if he had to."

"No, hear me out," Toby shakes his head. "I'm doing you a favor. Lilly's the lightest sleeper in America."

"I fail to see how that's doing me a favor."

" _But_ ," Toby continues. "She's pretty easy to get back down once she is awake."

"Last night it took _five_ more bedtime stories, seven renditions of 'You Are My Sunshine' and about a dozen kisses and hugs," Spencer refutes. "You call that easy?"

"Compared to walking around the house bouncing Henry eight billion times or sitting in the rocking chair for hours while he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling or driving around the neighborhood and thinking he's asleep until he reaches out and points out a tree or a house or a car?" Toby counters. "Because then, _yeah_. I do."

"Oh my god, I _love_ when he points out cars," Spencer chuckles. "He gets like a Bostonian accent with it. I don't know where he gets it from."

"Yeah it's cute. And how excited he gets over trees even though they all look the same?"

"Yes," Spencer grins and imitates her infant son impeccably. " _Tree! Tree!_ "

"Wait, we're getting off topic."

"Shit, yeah. Any chance they can just sleep here for the night? It's basically like camping."

Toby chuckles. "Fine. _I'll_ take Lilly, you get Hen. It'll be fine."

"Winner gets the last slice of apple pie."

"Ooh. Stakes have never been higher."

The second Toby reaches for and unbuckles Lilly's car seat, her brilliant brown eyes fly open and she rubs them crankily and whines the rest of the trip up to her room. And Spencer's feeling pretty confident about this whole thing until she steps on a squeaky toy on Henry's bedroom floor and he startles awake, instantly beginning to cry. They don't tumble into their own bed until long after midnight, exhausted and thoroughly spent.

They do split the last slice of apple pie, though. They've earned it.

* * *

"If I lay here…"

Spencer rolls over her side and glances at her husband. "What?"

"If I just lay here…"

"Oh my god. Please don't say what I think you're going to say."

"Would you lie with me," Toby finishes. "And just pretend the kids aren't awake?"

A grin splits her face and she chuckles the tiniest bit. "Okay. So that's _not_ what I thought you were going to say. It is, somehow, so much better."

"One weekend," Toby groans. "I just want _one_ where we can sleep in past seven."

"Those weekends exist only outside the realm of parenthood," Spencer yawns. "I need to get Henry a haircut. He's starting to look like a sheepdog."

"I promised I'd take Grace and Lilly ice skating." Toby frowns. "I don't know how to ice skate."

"I'd pay _big_ money to watch you ice skate."

"You're too kind."

A knock on the door sounds, then, and Henry pokes his head in. "Mom? Dad? Are you guys awake?"

"We're always awake," Toby replies. "Morning, Hen."

"Morning," He grins and scurries across the floor, hopping onto the bed with them. "Can we have pancakes?"

"Is it Saturday?"

"Yes!"

"Then absolutely."

"Mommy?" Lilly's voice comes next and when she peeks in, a somewhat worried glance is set upon her brow. "What happens if I twist my ankle or break my wrist today? Ice skating can be very dangerous, you know."

"Daddy would never let anything happen to you," Spencer says. "Right, Toby?"

"Of course." He nods. "Don't worry, sunshine. It'll be tons of fun and none of us will leave for the hospital. Promise."

She giggles a little and then Grace appears, already dressed, and asking, "I'm starving! What are all of you doing still in bed?"

"You know, some people like to use the weekends to get some sleep," Toby tells his eldest daughter.

Grace shrugs and asks, "Well are any of those people here?"

Spencer laughs. "I guess not."

* * *

"Daddy?"

Toby glances up through his haze of Dayquil and spots Lilly standing at the threshold of his bedroom. He smiles weakly at her and begs, "Hi honey. Don't come any closer, okay? I don't want to get you sick."

"I made you some soup," Lilly tells him and when his vision clears, he notes she's balancing a tray with a bowl of hot, steaming liquid, a glass of water and more of the medication he craves. "Mommy makes me soup when I'm sick and it always makes me feel better."

"Thank you," He clears his throat and attempts to sit against the headboard as she comes closer and sets the tray on the bed beside him. "Did you do this yourself?"

She nods and he exclaims, "The stove is hot and off limits, remember?"

She shrugs. "I used oven mitts."

Toby chuckles and this launches him into a coughing fit. When he recovers, he says, "You just think of everything."

She places a tiny hand on his forehead and yanks it back, saying, "You're really, really hot."

"I'll be okay," Toby assures her. "Just a little cold. Now go, please, before you catch it."

She bites her lip and slides off the bed. "Okay."

"Lilly?"

She pauses in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I love you. Thank you."

"I love you too, Daddy," She grins. "Feel better."

When Spencer checks on him a little while later, he's immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I forgot."

"You forgot what?"

"Henry. I forgot to pick up Henry." Toby frowns. "I was supposed to get him from daycare. I was supposed to pick him up. You have to go. You have to go get him now."

"Babe," She says. "It's seven-thirty at night. I picked him up hours ago."

"Oh. Oh, right. I haven't left the house today."

"And good thing."

She takes his temperature and shakes her head. "103.4. That's a new record. You're going up instead of down. _Awesome_. Let me get you something."

"I just took Dayquil. Are you trying to kill me?"

"If I was trying to kill you, I wouldn't do it like this," Spencer teases and Toby is not amused. "You're delirious. You took Dayquil _hours_ ago. And even if it had been recent, you can take ibuprofen. You just can't take acetaminophen."

Toby grins lazily at her. "I love it when you talk medical."

She shakes her head. "You're going to take this medicine. You're going to drink this water. And then you're going to sleep off this cold, because right now you're a hot mess and I'd like you to come back to me."

"Lilly made me soup."

Spencer glances at the empty bowl on the tray beside him and nods. "Wow. You were lucid enough for that? Impressive."

"She's a better parent than I am, right now."

"Hey, parenting when you're sick sucks," Spencer shrugs. "It is what it is."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Spencer smiles, a hand on his cheek. "Just get better. In fact, those little devils are probably the reason you're sick in the first place."

He nods and is already beginning to cross the threshold into sleep. "I'll fix it. It'll be okay."

"Fix what?" Spencer asks but when she glances at him, he's already passed out. Chuckling, she presses her lips against the burning skin of his forehead and whispers, "Goodnight, Toby."

* * *

He has _so_ much to do and he can't find his laptop anywhere.

He's been tearing apart the apartment, making so much noise he's sure their neighbors across the hall are bitching about them in angry French all over again, but he needs to file his paperwork and he needs to get into contact with his business back home and America is six hours behind and he has no idea where his laptop is. Spencer's working and Grace is performing some arts and crafts magic at the kitchen table and Toby is slowly losing his mind because he left his laptop on the desk in their bedroom and it's nowhere to be found. He checks under the bed, in drawers, in the closet and even in the bathroom and the living room and he _cannot find it_. It's fine. It's not like it's a two thousand dollar piece of machinery, or anything. Scrubbing an irritated hand over his face, Toby heads into the kitchen, where Grace is pasting something onto a piece of construction paper and singing _Alouette_ under her breath. It's then that Toby spots his laptop, resting right beside Grace's tube of Elmer's Glue and he prays she hasn't gotten any on his computer.

"Honey, where did you get that?" Toby asks, reaching for his laptop. "I've been looking all over the place for this."

"It was in your room," The four-year-old replies with a small shrug. "Look what I made!"

When he glances up, she's drawn an elaborate picture, shaken glitter all over the very top, and spelled her name out on the bottom. And that's when his eyes widen, for she hasn't spelled her name out with markers or colored pencils. She hasn't written it at all. "Grace… What are those?"

"Oh," Grace says simply. "They're from your computer."

Toby peels open his laptop and notes the G, R, A, C, and E tiles are all missing. He has to fight the urge to explode. _Two thousand dollar piece of machinery_. "Gracie… Why?"

She replies, "They matched."

"But this is Daddy's computer," Toby replies, trying to keep his voice even. "Did I tell you that you could play with it?"

"No," She says carefully. "But you weren't using it. I thought it was okay."

"But what am I supposed to do without all these keys?"

Grace considers this and then begins to peel them off of her construction paper, her tiny fingers still sticky with glue. "Here. You can have them back."

* * *

"Can I do it?"

"Do what, honey?"

"Pump the gas."

"Sure," Spencer chuckles. "In about thirteen years when you learn to drive."

Henry pulls a face and rolls down the window as Spencer disembarks the car, sticks the pump into the side. "Mommy?"

"What?"

"I have to go pee."

Spencer glances over her shoulder at the gas station and frowns back at her son. "You do?"

"Really, _really_ bad."

"Can you hold it until we go home? I'm almost done."

Henry thinks a bit and then shakes his head. "I _really_ have to go."

"Well, can you at least hold it until I finish pumping the gas?" She wonders and when Henry nods, she sighs. "Okay. Give me five seconds."

He squirms in his car seat and when she finishes, she pulls into a parking space just in front of the station. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Spencer places her son gently on the ground beside her and he begins to hop and wiggle and hold himself. She ushers him towards the door, "Okay, okay, we're going. Relax."

"Mommy, I _really_ have to pee."

"I know. I know."

They head towards the back of the store and push open the door to the women's restroom and this is, honestly, Spencer's nightmare. The only other occupant is a woman in a tube top and miniskirt changing a child who looks older than Henry, honestly, on the fold down changing table that had seen better days. Spencer's pretty sure she'd change her baby on the street before willingly laying down a child on that dingy, dirty thing. One of the sinks is covered in a trash bag secured with duct tape, but still, it leaks water out the side. Spencer reaches out and pushes on one of the empty stalls, but the toilet is clogged and there's sodden toilet paper all over the floor and she's pretty sure that's blood on the toilet seat. The stall next to that one is out of order and so they end up in the last stall, the handicapped stall, and immediately, Spencer warns her son, "Henry, don't touch _anything_."

"We have our own sink in here," He says in response. "It's little! I can reach!"

There aren't enough toilet seat covers in the world to protect him from the horrifyingly dirty bathroom. She holds him up and he squirms and points to the graffiti on the stall beside them. "Mommy, what does that word say?"

She feels like she's in a movie. _For a good time, call…_ "Nothing, honey. It's a bad word."

"Why did somebody write a bad word?"

"I don't know. Are you finished?"

He nods and then she hoists him up a bit higher so he can wash his hands and for good measure, she washes hers, too. They can't get out of that bathroom fast enough for her liking. She's pretty sure what she saw in there will haunt her for the rest of her life. When they arrive home, Toby greets them at the door, tousling Henry's mop of curls and then kissing his wife, remarking, "That took a bit longer than I expected. Was there a backup at the station?"

"Henry decided he needed to use the restroom and couldn't hold it," Spencer sighs. "Any cajoling fell on deaf ears."

Toby's eyes widen. " _You_ set foot in a gas station bathroom?"

She frowns. "I should've just let him pee his pants."

* * *

The baby is eating Cheerios off of the floor. Dad's nowhere to be seen and perhaps he isn't even in the picture at all, but the baby is slowly but surely picking Cheerios off the germ-infested floor and popping them into his mouth. Mom's too busy trying to solve the fight between her older two to notice. The girls are close in age; eight and ten, maybe, or nine and eleven. One has ear buds and one has giant, noise-cancelling headphones and they're both arguing over the iPad on the older girl's lap. They're elbowing each other, yanking the iPad away, screeching and ignoring Mom's chiding as family boarding is called for the flight they're awaiting. It's then that Dad appears, hands Mom a coffee and a muffin and then plucks the iPad away from both the girls, instigating fresh protests, from the oldest, and tears, from the younger child. Mom covers her face with her hands and only then notices the baby, who's been enjoying his floor snack uninterrupted. She snatches him up, settles him on her lap, and he begins to wail at the top of his lungs.

Spencer watches this whole thing unfold from afar and thinks, _I don't envy you. And yet, somehow, I do_.

"The Starbucks line was _ridiculous_ , so you better love me for this," Toby tells her upon his arrival, presenting her with a cup of coffee, which she accepts gratefully. "I don't know how you can still drink it like that."

"I always love you. Not just for getting me caffeine," She replies, not taking her eyes off of the family across the way. They're heading into the terminal when the baby drops his blanket and begins to scream, but Mom doesn't notice. A passing flight attendant bends down and hands it back and Mom thanks her, frazzled.

"What's got your attention?" Toby wonders, glancing across the way until he spots the very family that's captivated his wife.

"Remember when that used to be us?" Spencer asks wistfully. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

"It was," Toby says. "Screaming on airplanes, germs galore, picky eaters and puke laundry? All things filed under the category of things I do not miss."

"Still…" Spencer sighs. "You told me once you were going to make a list of things we'd miss when the kids were older and I said I'd make my own; things we _definitely_ could do without. But now…"

"Now you're beginning to see the light," Toby finishes her thought. "What made you see it? The fact that we've been married for thirty years?"

"Oh my god."

"Or that we're going on our anniversary trip the kids gave us? That they paid for this trip with the money they get from their adult jobs?"

"Seriously, stop."

"Or that later on this year, we're going to be gra-"

"Don't say it," Spencer shakes her head. "Don't say the 'G' word."

Toby chuckles and says it anyway. "Grandparents?"

"We're not old enough for our babies to be having babies," Spencer vehemently disagrees. "Right?"

"Wrong," Toby sighs. "Unfortunately, this is our new normal. There isn't anymore potty training or sex talks or teaching to drive in our future."

"Well," Spencer concedes. "I miss it more than I thought I would."

"I knew you would."

"And I'll tell you one thing," Spencer continues. "We're going to spoil the shit out of this grandkid."

Toby laughs. "You bet we are."

"And Paris?" She nods towards the terminal where their flight has begun to board. "Paris won't know what hit 'em."

"Bring it on."

"It'll be good to be back, honestly. It's been _years_."

"The city of love with the love of my life? I can't think of anything better than that."

" _Je t'aime, mon amour_ ," Spencer sighs happily, watching as planes ascend into the clear blue sky. " _Je t'aime_."


	16. oh why haven't you been there for me?

**Good evening friends! How are you all doing on this lovely Tuesday? Hopefully well; hopefully not too emotionally damaged by whatever nonsense happened on PLL tonight. I'm telling you- giving up on the show was the best decision I ever made (well, TV-wise :P) because not only am I no longer emotionally tortured, but now I can live in a world of my own creation. And if you're here, if you're reading this, then you must enjoy my world too, right? And that means so much to me. I love you all.  
**

 **Thank you for your kind words on the previous chapter! Again, I apologize for being so MIA for so long but I'm back for now. Today's chapter finally- _finally_ \- deals with the Cavanaugh family drama everyone's been asking for and it was super difficult to write. Surprise! Daniel Cavanaugh is a difficult character to grasp. But hopefully you'll still enjoy it. Let me know either way? Thanks! I knew I could always count on you guys. :P The chapter title comes from "Be Calm" by Fun. and gratitude comes from me. Love you all- goodnight!**

* * *

oh why haven't you been there for me?

He's on edge all day and it takes him much longer than he'd care to admit to realize why.

His first day back to work is on a Friday and it's ridiculous; he should've taken today off as well. Granted, he'd been lucky to receive any kind of paternity leave at all and certainly shouldn't be questioning the longevity, but he still finds himself doing it, anyway. Despite the fact that he'd then left for work this morning, nothing about his routine had changed; he'd ushered Grace off to summer camp, he'd fought with Lilly on what she would eat for breakfast that morning, and he'd cuddled and cooed over Henry while Spencer showered and then subsequently changed his shirt after the little one spit up all over him. He'd kissed his wife goodbye and joined in, momentarily, in her lamenting over him leaving her all alone for the first time since Henry's birth, and then he'd gone off to work, where he proceeded to stress over mounting deadlines, bark at an unsuspecting intern and return sass to a customer who hadn't been pleased with their results. It isn't like him and he isn't exactly sure what's wrong. At least, not at first.

Dinner is a chore with an infant who interrupts every few minutes in tears, a toddler who eats like a bird and won't stay seated at the table and an eight-year-old who's much more interested in playing with her food than eating it. He doesn't lose his temper; he won't. He refuses to. He isn't sure why he's so agitated, but it isn't because of his children; that much he knows is true. Instead, he tries as calmly as he can to get the older two to focus while Spencer does what she can to calm the newborn, haphazardly eating her dinner as well. He offers to clear the plates and Spencer thanks him gratefully, her eyes reading her own agitation and unparalleled exhaustion. It's much later, when some nonsensical children's program is on the television before them, and both of his little girls are tucked on either side of him, his son fast asleep on his chest, when Toby realizes where all of his irritation is stemming from.

His father had invited him to dinner tomorrow night. And Toby had accepted.

Honestly, he's not sure he's ready for the conversation that's about to take place. He's felt like an outsider, like a failure, to his father for his entire life and surely Daniel must have an ulterior motive. Toby isn't exactly sure why his father chose _now_ to step up and somewhat mend fences between them. He'd had years to decide he wanted to be a father; years to contact his son and apologize for everything he's said and done… Or everything he hasn't. And the strangest part of all is that Spencer seems to think this is going to be a beneficial conversation. They seem to have switched outlooks here; she's tried optimism on for size, while he sits over here, stewing and brimming with pessimism, assuming the worst. And this is it. This is the perpetual dark cloud that's been brewing over his head all day; a can of worms labeled "Dad." His father has been nothing but a damper on his life for as long as he can remember and right then and there, Toby clutches all three of his little ones even tighter, making a silent promise to each of them to never make them feel the same.

 _I love you guys. I believe in you. I'll always support you no matter what_.

And they fall asleep just like this- the little ones, anyway. Toby's wide-awake, because he can't get tomorrow's dinner out of the forefront of his mind. Short of his father confessing his wrongdoings and begging for a fresh start, begging for answers, begging to know all that he's missed and all that he'd failed his son in doing, Toby doesn't see a way in which this dinner can go well. And in all honesty, he doesn't see _any_ of that happening. Gently reaching forward, Toby switches off the television and then the living room is bathed in a comfortable silence, the only sounds remaining are Grace's soft snores and the quiet sucking of Lilly's fingers as she sleeps on, oblivious to her father's tension. It's this exact sight that Spencer walks in on moments later and he can tell, even from his spot on the couch, that she nearly melts on the spot.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life," She tells him immediately. "I feel almost like I'm imposing, somehow."

"You're not," He says softly as she gently sits down beside him.

"I can't believe Grace is passed out already," She comments, softly swiping strands of hair off of her angelic face. "It's barely eight-thirty."

"Camp kicks the crap out of her," Toby replies. "She's always falling asleep early, now. Last night, she fell asleep eating corn on the cob, remember?"

Spencer chuckles. "Right. How could I forget?"

She reaches for the baby, then, asking, "May I?"

He nods and Henry doesn't even stir as Spencer cradles him in the crook of her arm, a warm smile coming over her face. "I'll go put him down and come back for Lilly if you want to get Grace?"

"Sure."

"I'm actually mildly awake tonight, so we can catch up on the TV we missed this week, if you want."

"Okay."

"Or not," Spencer says. "It's up to you."

"I don't care, Spence."

She frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" She asks and he nods wordlessly. "You're being really short with me."

He glances at her and matches her frown. "I'm sorry. It's fine. I'm fine."

She considers him for a moment before asking, "Are you mad at me?"

"No," He shakes his head and heaves a sigh. Grace stirs beside him but does not wake.

"You are. You're mad at me," Spencer says instead. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, okay?" Toby tells her. "I'm not mad at you. Honestly. I'm not."

She eyes him before shaking her head and standing, heading for the stairs. "I don't believe you."

He groans in frustration. "Spence…"

"You can lie to me all you want, Toby Cavanaugh, but you can't get away with it."

Rolling his eyes, Toby scoops both of his daughters into his arms and stands, too, heading up the stairs toward each of their bedrooms. Once they're both settled and tucked in, he retreats to his own bedroom, where he finds Spencer fussing over the baby, even though he's swaddled and fast asleep in the bassinet by their bed. He sits beside her and kisses her shoulder, murmuring, "I'm not lying to you. I'm not mad; at least, not at you."

"It's your father, isn't it?" She asks without looking at him. "You're going to dinner tomorrow and you're not exactly excited about it."

"How could you tell?" He asks sardonically and her eyes finally meet his.

"You sure you're not mad at me? I mean, I'm practically making you go."

"You're not 'making' me do anything," Toby shakes his head. "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions."

"Okay, making, encouraging, same thing." Spencer sighs. "Look, if you don't want to go, don't go. I just think he's finally interested in extending the olive branch and maybe it would be a good thing to hear him out. Who knows when this opportunity will come along again? I mean, he waited this long."

"But how do I know that this conversation won't end like all the rest?" Toby asks. "With an argument and an accusation and an expression of disappointment?"

"Well…" Spencer trails off. "You don't. But don't you think it's worth the risk?"

Toby doesn't reply; honestly, he's not sure what he'd say. Spencer tries, "If it goes down the road you think it will, then you can walk away and never look back. But at the same time, maybe it would be good to completely hear your father out. If you're willing to listen, then he will be too. So if you listen to every little thing he has to say, chances are, you'll finally be able to tell him everything you've wanted, too."

"Thanks, Dr. Hastings," Toby drones sarcastically. "I didn't realize you were on the clock."

Spencer frowns. "I'm sorry. I know you hate it when I shrink you."

"No," He sighs. "Truth is, you're right. Just because I don't want to admit it doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Look…" Spencer says carefully, as though she's choosing her words from a stack of needles. "I don't think one dinner is going to solve the years and years' worth of animosity between the two of you. I don't think that you and your father will be the best of friends by tomorrow night or that you'll be able to settle the score or talk about the repressed feelings from your mother's passing or even tell him about Jenna. But… It's as good a start as any, right?"

Toby smiles ruefully. "Rome wasn't built in a day; isn't that the cliché?"

"Yes," Spencer agrees. "But just because something is cliché doesn't make it any less true."

"I guess…" Toby sighs and doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't know if it's because he can't or if he won't.

"You guess what?" Spencer probes, a hand on his knee, her voice soft. "Talk to me. Please. That's what I'm here for. Always."

"I don't know. I just…" He says, almost afraid to admit it. "I don't know what to expect. And that's what's killing me, honestly. It's not the idea of the dinner itself but what could happen, because…"

"Because you want to hope for the best," Spencer concludes. "But you know your father and, when it comes to him, hope breeds eternal misery?"

He nods slowly. "It's been years, but I guess I finally understand what you've been talking about this whole time."

Spencer's quiet a moment before asking, "Worst case scenario, what do you think will happen tomorrow?"

"Worst case?" Toby asks and when his wife nods, he begins to detail the night. "I'll get there, Heather will be running about like a chicken with her head cut off trying to smooth things over between us even though she's not my biggest fan, either. My Dad will talk about how much I'm screwing my life up by being with you and by trying to make money off of my 'hobby' and how my kids won't amount to anything, just like I hadn't. He'll try to rope me into moving back to Rosewood, taking over the family business, living a nice, modest, minimalist lifestyle, the kind that he has. And when none of this works, he'll yell and berate me and tell me I'm not the son he raised, not the one he wanted, and that I'm soft, weak, and will eventually lose everything I have if I don't make a change. And as a last resort, he'll throw in a dig about my mother, because he knows that will _always_ get to me. Always."

He can tell Spencer's fighting to keep her voice even, fighting against her better judgment to go off about his father's shortcomings, and if this were years ago, she might have. But she really has gotten a better handle on her emotions and instead, through gritted teeth, she asks, "And best case scenario?"

"Well… I hadn't really thought of that," Toby says. "I guess I was just thinking about how awful it was going to go that I didn't even consider it might not be."

"Well now you sound like me and that isn't necessarily a good thing," Spencer teases. "Humor me. Take a page out of your own book and look on the bright side."

"I guess," He shrugs. "I guess we'd sit down together and Heather would leave us alone because she'd realize she has no part in this conversation; not yet, anyway. I'll settle my demons with her another time. And he'd apologize, first and foremost. He'd apologize for the way he handled my mother's death and the way he jumped into a second marriage without consulting my feelings about it and for not being there for me when he should have been. He'd apologize for not supporting me when I wanted out of school and when I made a name for myself with my carpentry and when I started my own business. He'd apologize for not respecting you or our relationship and he'd want to apologize to you in person, too. And he'd apologize for not being a bigger part of his grandchildren's lives, for missing out on countless birthday parties and milestones and everything that comes with it. And then he'd tell me… Well. He'd tell me he wants to be a part of my life, a part of _our_ lives, and that he wants to make up for lost time. I'd love for him to tell me that he's proud of me or that he loves me, but that's a bit of a reach. I'm certainly not expecting it."

There's heartbreak in Spencer's eyes when he finally looks at her and he's about to tell her he's okay when she says, " _I_ love you. _I'm_ proud of you. I know that it doesn't make up for your father not saying it, but… Please tell me you know that someone is."

"I know, babe," Toby reaches for the hand that still on his knee and interlaces his fingers with hers. "I know."

She strokes the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb and says, "Well… At least you now know the two extremes; the two ends of the spectrum. The truth of what will really happen tomorrow night lies somewhere in the middle."

"Yeah," Toby says. "And I also now know why you get paid the big bucks. You are very good at this."

Spencer chuckles. "Thanks. And also, I'm sorry. I never mean to take the office home with me."

"Hey, comes with the territory," Toby jokes. "If I didn't want therapy, I shouldn't have married a doctor."

She grins. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He assures her. "I don't want to go anymore than I did, but I do feel better about it. So, thank you."

"Of course," Spencer says. "And if you want, I can always go with you. You know, rip your Dad a new one. God knows he deserves it."

"Yeah, you know what? That's a lovely offer, but I'm going to need to do this alone," Toby says. "Not that I wouldn't love your company, but these after-birth hormones have made you kind of terrifying and I really do think you would rip him a new one. As in, quite literally."

"I'm not terrifying!" Spencer shrieks and the baby whimpers in the bassinet beside her. "Am I terrifying, Henry?"

He begins to cry and Toby says, "See? He agrees with me."

"Oh my God," Spencer shakes her head and lifts the infant into her arms. "Hen, you're supposed to be on my side."

"Hey, he was there when you had the first conversation with my Dad. I wasn't," Toby shrugs. "He obviously knows how you get."

Spencer smirks and bounces the little one just a bit as he calms. "Just remember, Hen. I'm literally your only food source. You really want to get on my bad side?"

"Oh God, someone call CPS," Toby jokes. "She's threatening withholding food!"

"Henry Tobias Cavanaugh, do not believe your father's lies," Spencer whispers to the baby as his eyes droop once more with oncoming sleep. "It was a tasteless joke and I would _never_ let you go hungry. Ever."

"I'm not sure he believed you, anyway," Toby chuckles. "I think it's okay."

Once he's settled once more in his bassinet, Spencer asks, "So what's the plan?"

"I guess…" He says. "I guess I'll go over there tomorrow and try not to let my emotions get the best of me. I'll listen to what he has to say as long as I get my turn, too."

Spencer bites her lip and clarifies, "I meant for tonight. Are we going to attempt to catch up on our TV?"

"Oh," Toby smirks. "I'm actually pretty exhausted. Can we go to bed?"

"Oh good," Spencer sighs with relief. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

* * *

He contemplates turning around and driving home no less than five times.

He doesn't do it, but not because he's suddenly found the will to clear the air between him and his father, or anything. He does it because he's genuinely curious, or perhaps he's a glutton for punishment, or maybe it's for Spencer, who believes in him so fiercely and he wouldn't want something like that to go to waste. He'd played with the girls all day and gotten skin-to-skin time with Henry in the waning sunlight as the afternoon began to fade away, and as Spencer began to wrangle their little ones for dinner, Toby had dressed and done everything he could to put off the inevitable. With Grace and Lilly munching on their own dinners and Henry fast asleep in the swing in the living room, Spencer had kissed him goodbye, held tightly onto his hands, and wished him all the luck in the world. He hadn't known what to say in return. It's sad enough that he needs it.

Toby reaches Rosewood a little after six-thirty. It still brings a burgeoning pit of dread into his stomach each time he passes the deep cerulean "Welcome to Rosewood!" sign. All the familiar sights come back to greet him and he's reminded of how much this town has not changed; there's the church where so many funerals had taken place and where Spencer had almost lost her life, right at the beginning of all the madness. There's the school he'd attended for years, forever feeling invisible, forever feeling like a stranger in his own skin, with pranks and shaving cream and _killer_ spray-painted in blood red across his metal locker. There's The Apple Rose Grille, the only safe haven he'd had when times got tough, and The Brew, the long, steep staircase leading up to the only home he'd known, the only place he'd felt comfortable since his mother had passed. Speaking of which- a lump grows in his throat as he passes the mausoleum and he dares not to look. He knows she wouldn't mind, he knows she'd understand, but it still makes his heart ache that he'd left her behind here, in this town, and gone onto a place she could not follow.

One could argue that, years and years ago, she had done the very same.

His house still stands on the end of Serenity Lane, right beside Emily's. The mailbox is left untouched, for once, and he wonders if this is because there is no longer an accused murderer dwelling under his roof. He pulls into the driveway behind his father's car and kills the engine, taking a deep, calming breath and willing himself to open the door, step onto the porch, ring the bell. It seems silly, honestly, that he's stressing out so much over this; he'd been here a little over a week ago, attending the barbecue his father had invited him to, and getting insulted in the process. Perhaps this is what he's dreading; hearing exactly what he expects, exactly what he _always_ hears, when he pays that obligatory visit to the elder Cavanaugh. _No sense in putting off the inevitable_ , he eventually decides and steps out of the car, climbs onto the porch and knocks twice on the front door.

There's silence on the other end, as there always has been, ever since his mother had passed. Before, Marion could be heard humming an unknown tune or singing as she dusted the mahogany surfaces in the dining room or tinkling the ivories of the baby grand piano, a young Toby often by her side. Now, however, there is silence. In the days following his father's remarriage, the silence had been stifling; Toby had survived merely by stuffing himself into his room and playing his music as loud as he could stand it, usually until his stepmother complained or his father yelled or Jenna cited she needed the silence to focus on her recorded lectures, her empty gaze always paralyzing. And of course, when his parents were gone… Well. He needn't be reminded of what would happen then.

He's about to knock again when he hears the deadbolt turn out of place, the chain release from its latch, and Toby almost smirks because he doesn't know why this house would still need that kind of protection. The door swings open then and he finds himself glancing into the clear blue gaze of his father, their eyes identical in color but not in feeling. It's this same, steely, stony look that had always intimidated Toby as a child, something he'd shy away from, something he'd avoid, preferring to be in the comfort of his mother's company instead. He remembers a conversation his parents had had, years and years and years ago on one balmy summer evening when they'd believed him to be asleep; Daniel had complained that there was just no connecting with his son, nothing to bond over, and Marion had suggested, _Have you ever tried talking to him?_ Daniel had snorted and harrumphed his disagreement- _of course_ he had- and Marion replied, _Well, maybe try_ not _looking at him like that. Like what?_ Daniel had asked, his voice rising accusatorily. Marion had frowned and responded, _Like you want to destroy him_.

It's funny how some things, like the sound of his mother's laugh or her familiar scent or the exact intonation of her voice, have completely left his memory, but this he recalls as clear as day.

"Toby," Daniel finally says, stepping aside to allow his son entrance. "I'm glad you could make it."

 _So far, so good_. Toby nods and agrees. "Yeah. Me too."

The house remains bathed in silence. In fact, it's pristine and empty, almost as if no one actually really lives here. There are two framed photographs on the mantle of the fireplace, but they're of landscapes- one a rocky mountain range and another a soft, sandy beach. The room off of the foyer- Jenna's old bedroom- is closed off, door locked tight and lights extinguished and for some reason, Toby's glad. His palms begin to sweat, anyway. Up the stairs, he wonders what his father and stepmother had done with his old bedroom. He wonders if there's anything left of that sad, lonely teenager who used to live here. And part of him gains this overwhelming urge to go upstairs and seek answers himself, but he doesn't. He's a guest in this house, a stranger, and essentially, it's what he always had been, ever since his father had destroyed his family and created a brand new one excluding his only son.

Toby follows his father through the house, back towards the kitchen, and memories he'd care not remember flock right to the forefront of his mind. As they pass through the family room, Toby does a double take at the floor lamp and ficus in the corner of the room. He can't remember the last time he'd been inside his childhood home and so perhaps it's been gone for years, but still, the emptiness of the corner fills his veins with panic. "Dad, the piano… Where's Mom's piano?"

Daniel stops walking and glances in the direction of the corner of the room, avoiding his son's gaze. "It's gone, Toby."

"Gone? What do you…" He trails off, his head shaking in disbelief. "What did you do with it?"

"It was taking up space, Toby, and it just sat there in the corner of the room-"

"What did you do with it?"

"Heather never liked the look of that thing anyway, and nobody played it anymore-"

"Dad," Toby says, and though he really doesn't want to know, he asks, "Where is it?"

Daniel sighs and finally meets his son's eyes. "I sold it."

Toby's eyes widen even though he'd suspected as much. He glances away, at the carpet that still has four indentations from the claws of a baby grand piano, and at the potted plant and lamp that now stand in its place, sorry replacements. He remembers being very small, no older than three or four, and climbing up onto the bench beside his mother, smashing his tiny fingers down on the keys in front of him as she would laugh and shake her head, always so patient with him. He remembers sitting side by side as her fingers would move dexterously over the keys, her voice smooth and melodic and sweeter than honey as she sang along. He remembers begging for lessons and she'd pluck him onto her lap, guiding each of his tiny fingers along as he played a clunky version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and "Old Macdonald" and he remembers eventually growing tired and bored and instead watching her play "Ode to Joy" and "Fur Elise." He remembers being even older, still, and playing "Heart and Soul" and she'd laugh and clap and kiss him on the top of his head each time he'd complete his part without missing a note. And of course, it wasn't always like this. He remembers struggling to remember which songs might bring her out of a particularly bad spell, which songs might just make her smile again. He remembers the day before she'd been committed, when she'd sat on the bench before the piano and played the most mournful tune he'd ever heard. And he remembers after, in the days following her burial, how he'd stare at the ivory keys and beg for her to come back to him. Daniel had come in one afternoon to find his son staring despairingly at the instrument and frowned, clapping him hard on the back and saying, _I miss her too, kid. But staring at this thing isn't going to bring her back. Holding onto what she left behind isn't going to change the fact that she's gone_.

He feels like he's going to be sick. He can sense Daniel's impatience is growing, but Toby can't bring himself to move from the spot. "It was old; I made good money off of it. You can have it, if you want- the money. Most of it's still left."

"I don't want the money," Toby sighs. "I would've liked the piano."

Daniel frowns. "If I'd known…"

 _You wouldn't have given it to me_ , Toby fills in. _You don't know me at all_. "It's alright."

"Well…" Daniel trails off, always awkward in the field of emotions. "Let's eat, then."

They enter the kitchen then and a strong, almost unpleasant smell fills his nostrils. He knows his father has never been a chef; in fact, in the days before Heather and Jenna moved in, Toby had been basically living off of cereal and grilled cheese sandwiches. So perhaps he has to hand it to his father, this time. If Daniel had really attempted to cook himself and his son a meal, maybe he really was trying to turn over a new leaf. But then, Toby spots it- a Chinese takeout container, then two, and then three. He should've known. Daniel heads over to the sink, washes his hands and begins to rummage through the cupboards for paper plates and napkins, because dishes, of course, were far too formal. Or, so Toby assumes.

"You get good Chinese food up north?" Daniel asks as he assumes his regular spot at the head of the table.

"I guess," Toby shrugs. "We try not to order in very often. It's bad for you, you know?"

"Eh," Daniel waves this off. "Enough with all this diet and exercise crap. You only get one life, right? Who says you can't eat what you want?"

Toby sighs. "Yeah. Sure. I guess so."

"I ordered it from this new place that just opened up by City Hall," Daniel says, just talking for his health, now. "Strange place for a Chinese restaurant, but damn, if it isn't delicious. Have any preferences?"

"Chinese-wise?"

"Yeah."

"Not really."

"Well, I got a little bit of everything," Daniel says. "Some dumplings, some fried rice and lo mein- oh! Make sure you try the beef with broccoli. It's Heather's favorite."

Toby nods and begins to spoon some of the aforementioned meal onto his plate. "Where is she?"

"Heather?" Daniel asks and when his son nods, he elaborates. "New York. Weekend trip with Jenna. We haven't seen much of her these days, so it'll be good for them. Girls' trip though; I wasn't invited."

"Sucks."

"It's not so bad. Got the house to myself and I get to see my son," Daniel replies. Toby says nothing. "She sends her love, though. Told her all about the baby and she'd love pictures. Did you bring any?"

"No."

"Well, how's he doing?" Daniel implores. "You must be exhausted, huh? Newborn in the house?"

"Yeah we are," Toby nods his agreement. "But he's good. He's doing well."

"And the girls? They're adjusting without issue?"

"Yeah, they're fine."

"And Spencer? How's Spencer?"

Toby nods again. "She's good. We're all good."

Daniel stares at him a moment before frowning. "What's the matter, Toby? I invite you over for dinner and so that we can talk and now you have nothing to say?"

Toby shrugs. "I guess I'm just waiting to get past your fake interest in my family so that we can get to why you really asked me here."

Daniel smirks, almost patronizingly, and it makes Toby cringe. "You think my interest is fake?"

"You've been a grandparent for eight years now and you've never asked after your grandchildren's behalf before," Toby says. "And don't pretend that every time we talk you don't insinuate that Spencer's going to leave me before the week is up."

"I'll admit that in the past I've made a few mistakes," Daniel says. "But when I talked to Spencer… She really helped me see what I've missed out on. And… What I was blind to all these years."

Toby shakes his head. "She shouldn't have had to. We've been together for sixteen years. Why wasn't that enough?"

Daniel is silent; he heaves a sigh and can say nothing more. Feeling bold, Toby then asks, "Why wasn't I enough?"

"What are you talking about, Toby?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Toby insists. "Mom died and it's like I didn't even exist anymore. You went and jumped into this marriage and gave me a stepmother and a stepsister before I could even blink. I didn't even know you were _dating_. And suddenly, they were moving in."

"I don't know what you want me to say about that," Daniel says honestly. "We grieved in different ways. You wanted to hold onto the past and I wanted to move on."

Toby frowns. "You thought she was crazy."

"No, Toby, I thought she was depressed," Daniel tells him. "And she was."

"But you don't need to commit people that are depressed," Toby says. "She just needed medication and time to heal."

"Medication? Please," Daniel shakes his head. "She had _plenty_ of that. She had too much. And the reason I committed her is because she tried to take it all at once."

This is news to him. "She tried to kill herself?"

"I wish I could say it was the first time," Daniel says. "Your mother needed help, Toby. More help than I could give her and certainly, those pills did nothing if you took them all at once, except maybe end your life. You know… I actually thought I was helping her. I didn't realize she'd find another way."

"She didn't," Toby disagrees. "She didn't kill herself, Dad. You have to believe that."

Daniel looks at Toby with a sad sort of smile, almost sympathetic, and says, "You keep telling yourself that."

Toby glances down at his untouched meal and realizes his appetite is gone. Daniel clears his throat and says, "I don't expect things between us to be fixed tonight. But… They're the only grandkids I've got, Toby. And I'd like to get to know them."

"I'd like for you to get to know them too," Toby says. "But there's too much we've never talked about and so much we need to cover. I can't, on good faith, just agree to anything."

Daniel asks, "Like what?"

"Like my career," Toby says. "You've never supported me. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how much it sucks?"

"I don't understand it," Daniel shakes his head. "It just doesn't make sense to me why you would feel the need to quit school and take up woodworking."

"That isn't what I do," Toby says, fighting to keep his voice even. "I'm a contractor. I built my own house with my bare hands. I opened my own business. It's not like… I'm not sitting at home, whittling spears."

Daniel purses his lips. "Oh."

"And as for why I quit school… Do you _really_ not understand why I needed to drop out? Get my GED?" Toby asks. "Do you really not remember what was going on back then?"

"You were accused of murdering that girl," Daniel says as though it's the most minute detail in the world. "Ashley something."

"Alison DiLaurentis," Toby hisses and the name still makes him burn. "She had the worst reputation of anyone around. She was a manipulative, vindictive liar who would do _anything_ to ruin someone. I gave her my sweater. And because of that… I mean, my life fell apart."

"Alison," Daniel nods, remembering. "The one who injured Jenna. Alison and her friends."

"Right, because that's all that matters," Toby seethes. "Jenna. Not me. Not that I was sent to prison for a year for something I didn't do. Not that I was getting death threats by the hour from people who had no idea what they were talking about. Not that I had 'killer' spray-painted across my locker and people looked at me like I was some kind of monster."

Daniel stares at his son, his gaze unwavering. "I didn't know about that."

"You didn't _ask_ ," Toby says. "You didn't care. You weren't there."

"Hey," Daniel barks, a warning. "I never believed that you'd hurt _anyone_."

"You didn't tell me that," Toby insists. "You never said a thing. You continued to ignore me and you focused on Jenna and on how you could make things better for her, but what about me? Why didn't you ask me what I needed? Why didn't you stick up for me in court or when they questioned me about my whereabouts the night she went missing? Why didn't you _do_ something?"

"Toby…" Daniel trails off, unable to find the words. "What was I supposed to do?"

He finds his head shaking in disbelief. For a long time, Toby remains silent; he's not sure he'll ever be able to find the words he's searching for to battle against his father's apathy. But finally, something comes to him. "Dad… Do you remember what you told me when I first asked you what was wrong with Mom?"

Daniel exhales heavily. "No I don't."

"I was ten years old," Toby recalls. "And she'd been sleeping a lot and when she wasn't sleeping, she was bawling her eyes out. And I was trying to do everything I could to make her smile or make her laugh or just bring her back to herself, but nothing was working. I asked you over and over, at least a hundred times, what was wrong with her and every time, you told me nothing. You told me she was okay. But then finally, I guess I finally broke you, because you told me she was depressed. And I kind of knew what that meant and so I was trying to focus on how to help her recover, but do you remember what you said? You said, 'You can't fix that. It's in her brain. Her brain is messed up.' And so I asked why. And you definitely misinterpreted that, because you said, 'I don't know why, Toby. Why _would_ she be depressed? She has everything and yet she _still_ isn't happy.' And that stuck with me for a long, long time."

Daniel pauses. "Not my finest moment."

"No, but I certainly remembered it," Toby says. "Because you can't explain depression; you can't explain mental illness. But I still _tried_ ; I tried to understand why she was so profoundly sad. I tried to understand how she could possibly feel so alone when she still had you, as far as I knew, and she had me, too. I didn't _get_ it. And I wanted to. I really, really wanted to, because I wanted to help her. But I just didn't understand."

"And then, after I was fitted with an ankle bracelet and my lawyer talked to me in this grim tone that told me everything was already over and everyone looked at me like I was trash, I finally got it," Toby continues. "I thought I was going to go to prison for the rest of my life for killing Alison DiLaurentis, except I didn't do it, and no one believed me. Everywhere I turned, someone else was turning away in fear or shouting that I should just drop dead or whispering behind their hands and running to spread the rumor. I had never felt more alone in my life. And that's when I finally understood what Mom had been feeling all along. I'll never know what pushed her to that point, but at least I finally got it."

"Toby," Daniel shakes his head, his eyes not leaving his son's. "I don't know what to say."

"There isn't anything to say; this happened sixteen years ago," Toby replies. "But I'm not telling you this to invoke sympathy or to incite an apology. I have a point, I swear. I… I was alone. I didn't have anyone to talk to or to turn to and no one was there for me. But then, someone was. She walked up our front steps one day and said the one thing I needed to hear more than anything- that she believed me. That she knew I was being framed. And we sat there and talked and spoke French and it was the happiest I'd felt in days. I think I fell in love with her on the spot- no, looking back, I know I did."

Daniel finally seems to understand. "Spencer."

"Yeah," Toby nods. "Look, I don't know what your vendetta is with the Hastings' and I know you think she's too good for me. Believe me, you're not the only one to share that opinion; I thought it for years. But… She's everything to me. And she's the mother of my children, so if you want to get to know those children, you need to come to terms with that. And if you can't, if you can't accept her, then I really think we're done here. Because that's non-negotiable; it's something that's never going to change."

"I realize that," Daniel rolls his eyes. "Look, I don't have anything against Spencer, Toby. You seem to think that I hate her, or something, when that's not the case."

"Well, you have a _terrible_ way of showing that," Toby tells him. "You've always been short with her, you're never very welcoming whenever she's around and you're practically counting down the days until she leaves me."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I didn't think this thing would last, at least not at first," Daniel says. "You've got to see it from my perspective. I've known the Hastings' much longer than you have, Toby, and everything with them has to be _perfect_. Two lawyers for breadwinners and you just _know_ that's how they are. And their older girl is in politics and married to a doctor with one perfect little girl, and the way the Hastings' are always meddling in everyone else's business and they're always _so_ quick to cover a scandal, whether it's Radley or it's a bastard offspring. Yeah, we _all_ know about that, alright? They have their skeletons in the closet just as much as anybody, and yet, they're so quick to judge and so quick to turn up their noses and so quick to point out everyone else's flaws before they confront their own. So forgive me if I didn't want my son getting involved in any of _that_."

Toby's immediately shaking his head. "Spencer isn't like that at all and believe me, she hates that about her family just as much as you do."

" _I know_ ," Daniel sighs. "You think I didn't realize that sixteen years later? When you two first started dating I thought you were a ticking time bomb. I waited for this thing to run its course. But it never did. And when I talked to her at the hospital the other day… She's different than what I thought she'd be. I've had conversations with both her parents and I wouldn't have guessed that she belonged to them."

At this, Toby chuckles. "She'd be glad to hear you say that."

"I was quick to judge, okay?" Daniel says, a peace offering. "I didn't give her a chance. But I'm glad you did, because you seem happy."

"I am," Toby smiles genuinely. "Happiest I've been in my whole life."

"I said it at the party and I meant every word," Daniel says. "You're always welcome here; all five of you. You're family."

Toby eyes his father, his brows raised nearly to his hairline. "We are?"

"You're family," Daniel says more definitively and Toby says nothing more.

He realizes he hasn't taken a single bite when Daniel asks, "You want dessert? I've got ice cream in the freezer and a couple of slices of Heather's peach cobbler."

"No, thanks. I should be getting home," Toby says and pushes back from the table, emptying his full plate of food into the trashcan. "Can I help you clean up?"

"Nah," Daniel waves it off. "I'll get it."

Toby nods and begins to head back through the house, haunted by the conversation and by unwanted memories. At the doorway, Daniel says, almost awkwardly, "Don't be a stranger now, alright?"

"Phone works both ways," Toby replies. "Always has."

Daniel glances at the floor and then back at his son before saying, "Thanksgiving. I want you to all come for Thanksgiving."

"What?" Toby implores. "That's months away."

"Which means you'll have plenty of time to think it over," Daniel says. "Although, I won't take no for an answer."

"Are you sure?" Toby asks hesitantly. "Doesn't Jenna always come for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," Daniel shrugs. "So?"

"So…" Toby trails off and refuses to approach the Jenna situation tonight. He's already exhausted and he's not sure he'll _ever_ be able to stomach that conversation. "So… I'll have to talk to Spencer but I'm sure you can count us in."

Daniel nods and for the first time all evening, he smiles. "I'm glad we did this."

He claps his son on the shoulder, his signature parental gesture, and Toby feels fourteen again. "Yeah. So am I."

* * *

"So? How did it go?"

The look upon Spencer's face is wide-eyed and anxious and Toby honestly doesn't know what to tell her. No, the worst case scenario had not played out, but neither had the best, and he's stuck feeling like their conversation had gone in circles and really, nothing had been solved. Spencer had been uncharacteristically optimistic about this dinner and he really didn't have the heart to tell her that it had been less than perfect. Instead, he sighs, pulls off his shoes and collapses on the couch beside her, his heart breaking at the frown that instantly comes over her face, as she assumes the worst. He leans against her, his shoulders sag, and he's suddenly overcome with an exhaustion that nearly finishes him. She tucks one arm protectively across his chest as her other hand entangles itself in his hair, and in moments he feels her lips connect with the skin of his temple and then his forehead. He would love to just stay here, in this position with her, all night, in silence.

Unfortunately, she would not.

"Toby?" Spencer tries again. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just _great_ ," Toby replies, once again on edge. "I just took your advice and poured my heart out and told him how abandoned and alone I'd felt all my life, only for him to say nothing in return. He didn't apologize for anything. He didn't sympathize with me. He didn't promise he would change. He didn't do _anything._ He didn't _say_ anything. And he never does. And I don't know why I ever think that this is going to change."

"Oh Toby," Spencer sighs. "I'm so sorry."

"What's worse is that I think _he_ thinks we made great progress tonight," Toby shakes his head. "But he doesn't _care_. And you can't make someone care, you know? You can't do that. He is of the philosophy that the past is the past and he would like to just have a fresh start and a brand new relationship. But… That's not how it works. You can't decide you want to be a father and a grandfather tonight and suddenly, you are one. You can't just decide that. Because what about yesterday? What about last year? What about every waking second and everything that happened since my mother died? You can't just forget about that. Or, at least, I can't."

"And you shouldn't have to," Spencer agrees, pressing another kiss into his skin. "Whether he wants to admit it or not, he missed a huge part of your life."

Toby frowns and admits, "He sold my mother's piano."

"He what?" Spencer exclaims, eyes wide, and Toby pulls away from her, sits up, and looks her in the eye.

"He just sold it," He shakes his head. "He didn't ask me if I wanted it or tuck it away in storage for safekeeping, he just got rid of it like it was garbage. I mean… Who _does_ that?"

Spencer's emotions are all over her face and it's only increasing his tenfold. "Oh babe…"

"We had so many great memories with that thing," Toby smiles ruefully and then finds himself shaking his head. "God, I _wish_ I still had my bike. What I wouldn't give for a good ride to clear my head right about now."

Spencer frowns. "I'm sorry I made you get rid of it."

"You didn't make me do anything."

"Okay, I'm sorry I _strongly encouraged_ you to get rid of it."

"It's fine; you're right about them. They're dangerous," Toby sighs. "It's just that…When things like this would happen back then, I'd always find a way out. I'd ride for an hour or two and it would make me feel better. I need that right about now."

"So stay here and talk to me," Spencer says. "That'll be just as good. Clear your head, vent, rant, scream… Do whatever you need to do. Actually, don't scream; the kids are asleep."

He smirks. "Thanks. I don't… I don't even know what to say. I guess… I guess somewhere, deep down, I expected things were going to be different this time. I'd hoped they would be. I was thinking maybe he'd apologize for being an ass all these years, tell me that he was proud of what I'd done for myself and no matter what… No matter what, he loved me. But he couldn't even give me that."

"Toby…" Spencer begins. "You know how I feel about your father so I'm just going to spare you my repeating it."

Toby chuckles a bit. "Thank you."

"But whether you believe it or not, things _were_ different tonight," She tells him. "You said so yourself- you poured your heart out. You told him things you've been holding in for _years_ … And he listened. And maybe he didn't say anything tonight, but he's probably processing what you said. If you gave him an earful- something he really deserves- then it's going to take him some time to give you everything you deserve in return. I don't know how long it's going to take; knowing your father, it likely won't happen tomorrow. But I truly believe he'll reciprocate eventually. One day, he really is going to wake up and realize what an amazing person you are and how damn lucky he is to have you as a son and how fucking stupid he's been all these years to not realize it and take advantage of you. You just need to believe in him. And you need to not give up."

"Really? I should just keep believing in the kind of person he really is?" Toby asks and when she nods, he asks, "Who the hell are you and what have you done with my wife?"

Spencer chuckles. "I'll admit, it's not my personal philosophy. I have the tendency to assume the worst. But I don't think you should be so quick to give up on him, at least not now after he's made an effort."

"Why not?"

"Because you taught me to never give up on people," Spencer smiles. "And now I'm reminding you to do the same."

"Okay," Toby agrees and slings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her body into his. "But if this backfires-"

"Oh, your father already knows what's coming to him, trust me. We already had that conversation."

"Oh," Toby says. "Remind me not to mess with you."

"Damn straight."

They cuddle in silence a moment before Toby asks, "Hey, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we have any Thanksgiving plans?"

"Um, it's three months away, so no," Spencer replies. "Why?"

"My father offered tonight," Toby says. "And I couldn't exactly say no to his face."

Spencer's eyes widen. "We're going to your father's for Thanksgiving?"

He shrugs. "Surprise?"

"I did not sign up for this."

"Hey, you encouraged it," Toby reminds her. "I could've just canceled this whole thing."

"I want you to have a relationship with your father," Spencer defends herself. "I just didn't expect to be celebrating holidays together so soon."

Toby grins and stands, offering his hand which she gratefully accepts. "Come on, you. Let's go to bed. This whole thing has made me very, very tired."

She agrees and they stroll hand in hand towards the staircase. Before the ascend, however, Spencer hesitates and turns to face him, her deep brown eyes the sincerest he's ever seen them. "Hey… In case no one's told you today…"

He cocks an eyebrow at her, confused, and then she presses herself against him, her lips fusing with his, in a kiss that makes his toes curl and his veins electrify and every rational thought completely leave his mind. When she pulls back, she doesn't even quite grasp the effect she's had on him and instead, says, "I love you so, so much. I am so grateful for you everyday and I'm so proud of everything you've done and everything you've accomplished. No matter what… I love you."

Toby feels every tiny bit of angst and anxiety and frustration completely ebb away at her words. He kisses her again, strokes her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, and replies, "Spencer, you're my angel. I don't know what I would do without you. I love you too; more than anything in the world."

She smiles; he smiles, too. And no matter what comes next, Toby knows everything will be alright.


	17. you might think i'm bulletproof

**Good evening, friends! As you can see, I'm still here, being relentless LOL. To be completely honest with you, I'm not even sure how I'm still writing these two. It's with extreme difficulty that I even think about PLL without getting nauseous lately, but for some reason, writing these random parenting one-shots has been so therapeutic for me. So honestly, even if everyone stopped reading, I'd still be here. Because I can't stop, at this point.**

 **I've stopped caring about PLL and about canon Spoby, to be honest. BUT. I've also completely removed Spoby from the universe the show exists in. In my head, _that's_ the AU, and this is the canon. And that, I think, is how I'm surviving this. Does that make sense? Do you even read my random ramblings up here? LOL. No judgments if you don't. :P Tonight's chapter title comes from "Tell Me Why" by Taylor Swift and thank you for reading, if you do. I'm taking any reviews as early birthday presents (your girl's turning 24 on Thursday, God help us all!).**

* * *

you might think i'm bulletproof, but i'm not

She has an idea, call it a vision perhaps, of how their week will go.

She isn't going to lie; it hasn't been an easy adjustment, having Grace away at school. Lilly had cried herself to sleep for a week, talking with her sister through FaceTime every night and texting her pretty much all day. Henry had wandered aimlessly around the house from room to room, picking up a book and putting it down or flipping mindlessly through the television channels or strapping on his bike helmet but losing interest halfway through. And it definitely had been strange to sit down to family meals, breakfasts and dinners alike, and stare at her empty place like a phantom limb. On the other hand, Grace called weekly with reports of how much she's learning, how much fun she's having and how she never wants to leave, so at least she's getting something out of her experience. And Spencer's done everything in her power to assure her own children wouldn't grow up starving for attention and affection like she had, and since her younger two have been all but lost since their older sister had been away (when Melissa had gone to college, Spencer hadn't even noticed), she considers herself successful.

November brings anniversaries, cold weather and the holidays. Grace is granted one full week for Thanksgiving and the anticipation builds within Spencer and the rest of the family the whole month long. Henry perks up immediately and begins to dream up all kinds of new scenarios in which to drive his oldest sister up the wall. Lilly makes a list of all the things she wants to do with her sister the moment she arrives home and though it's been months since she's been gone and since the tears have stopped, Spencer worries that when Grace returns at the end of the week, Lilly's sorrow will, too. Spencer cleans her eldest daughter's bedroom, places fresh sheets on her bed and dreams of the moment when she can hug her again while Toby confirms their Thanksgiving plans with his father, their annual tradition, and begins to dread visiting almost as much as he anticipates his daughter. In his own excitement, he drives out to retrieve her and arrives an hour early and while they're on the trip home, the remaining family members buzz with eagerness at home. Spencer imagines they'll have a long talk about all the things she's done and experienced, they'll have a nice home-cooked family meal together, the five of them reunited at last, and then perhaps they'll watch a movie, snuggled together on the couch like old times.

In reality, none of this happens.

"Welcome home, Grace!" Lilly shrieks the minute the door opens and launches herself into her sister's arms.

She stumbles a bit from the force. "Ow! Careful! Hi, Lil, thank you. Ugh, it's freezing outside."

"Maybe you have an extra sweatshirt in all of this luggage?" Toby jokes from behind her, shutting the door and switching over the deadbolt. "Seriously. You're just here for a week, right? Or are you moving back in?"

Grace shrugs, a grin on her face, as her father struggles with her two suitcases and duffel bag. Henry then puts in, "But where do you think all of that is going to fit? I'm kind of using your room as a terrarium."

"A terrarium?" Grace scrunches her nose. "For what?"

"My reptiles and amphibians."

"You better be joking. You know how those things freak me out."

Henry grins a devious smile and Spencer rolls her eyes. "Jeez Hen, you couldn't even let her get in the door first?"

"Why would I wait? That's no fun."

"Well, you better plan the funeral arrangements," Grace says, heading for the stairs. "Because if there is _anything_ living in my room, it won't be that way for long."

Henry shakes his head, a delighted smile on his face despite the conversation. Spencer grins, too; this is his own way of showing his sister he'd missed her. Grace gets halfway up the staircase before Spencer calls to her, "Hey! I don't get a hug?"

"Sorry," She says simply and nearly bounds back down to embrace her. She smells of dining halls and musty classrooms and it brings Spencer a sense of nostalgia. She wants to sit down with her daughter and hear _everything_ , and just when she's about to suggest it, Grace shrugs out of their embrace to say, "I need to change."

"What's wrong with what you've got on?" Spencer asks. "You don't need to dress up for dinner. I'm making chicken and broccoli Alfredo stuffed shells- your favorite. Plus, Lil and Hen picked out the ingredients for s'mores and I thought we could light a fire and roast marshmallows and rent a movie."

Grace's face falls just slightly and Spencer knows instantly she's going to back out. "Oh… That sounds really nice."

"But?"

"But," She bites her lip. "My poli-sci midterm is the reason I had to come home as late as I did and the girls are already here and we were going to meet up for dinner. We're staying at Brynn's tonight… If that's okay."

Spencer sighs but finds herself nodding. "It's okay."

"It is?" Grace asks. "It's just that I haven't seen them since the summer, since before we left, and McKenzie and Grant broke up and she's still a mess and apparently there's this huge drama with Bennett-"

"Gracie," Spencer halts her rant. "It's alright. You can go. Go meet up with your friends."

Grace nods and heads up the stairs, pausing halfway to turn back and ask, "Rain check?"

"Holding you to that."

She changes and is out the door in twenty minutes. When Spencer pulls dinner out of the oven and Lilly comes downstairs to set the table, her mouth upends into a frown. "Wait… Why are there only four plates?"

"Your sister will not be joining us," Spencer replies. "Can you get your father and brother?"

Lilly nods but asks, "Is she feeling sick?"

"No. She's already made plans," Spencer says. "It's okay. We get her for a whole week. They can have her for a night."

They sit down to dinner and once again come face to face with Grace's empty chair. Henry asks, "Are you sure she even came home at all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tonight is the same as last night and the one before," Henry shrugs. "Maybe she's not even really here. Maybe we just imagined it."

"Henry," Toby shakes his head, chuckling just a bit. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"I'm just saying."

"She's definitely here. She talked my ear off the whole ride home," Toby informs them. "But I've got to admit… I kind of hoped she'd want to hang out with us for a bit."

Lilly sighs, picking at her food. "This sucks."

"It does," Spencer approaches the subject cautiously. "But she has a life, too. And we know how much she's enjoyed school, so… As excited as we are to have her home, she may not be _as_ excited to be home. You know?"

"She's _plenty_ excited," Lilly frowns. "She would just rather be with Brynn and McKenzie and Harper."

"Lil, we'll get our time with her," Spencer tells her daughter and when identical chestnut eyes bore into hers, she says, "I promise."

Lilly finishes her dinner and returns to her bedroom, the door closing behind her. It's Henry's turn to load the dishwasher, which he does with painful scrutiny, as if he's putting off his inevitable boredom once he's finished. When the kitchen is clean and empty, they do end up building a fire, but only Spencer and Toby remain. There's nothing on television and their hearts aren't exactly in it anyway, so they settle on some cooking show and call it a night. It's only been about an hour before Spencer cracks open the wine, something Toby pokes fun at her for, but joins in without hesitation. From the moment the nurses placed that tiny bundle of joy that is their daughter into their arms for the first time, one of their greatest fears in life had been the day when Grace should leave them behind for a life of independence. She's done this many times since that cold January evening on which she was born and it never gets any easier.

"Well…" Toby says after a moment. "Here's to having all five of us back under the same roof."

Spencer clinks her glass against his and chuckles ruefully. "Yeah… Except she's under Emily's roof tonight and we're once again a family of four."

"Is this normal?" Toby asks. "Her being home but not actually wanting to _be_ home?"

"I don't know. I can't say I blame her," Spencer says. "When I came home on breaks, all I wanted was to be with you and with the girls."

"Yeah, but how many times have you said your house wasn't exactly your safest place to land?" Toby asks her. "I like to think that our house is much more welcoming than the House of Hastings."

"Uh, _hell_ yeah it is," Spencer replies. "Come on. It's not even a competition."

"Well, then?"

"She wants to be with her friends. Can't blame her for that."

"No, I guess not," Toby says. "I guess this will prepare us for when they're all out of the house."

"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?" Spencer shakes her head. "They're literally never leaving me."

He grins. "Keep telling yourself that."

"I will," She grins back. "And if reality ever becomes too much for you to handle, you're more than welcome to come hang out with me over here in denial."

He laughs. "Well… If anything, we know we get her at least for Thanksgiving, right? Or are she and her friends doing one of those friends-givings and ignoring us?"

"No, they're not," Spencer smirks. "At least, I don't think they are. Hell, they could be planning one right now."

"Any way we can crash it and avoid going to my Dad's?" Toby asks, stifling a yawn. "I'd love to not sit through another entire dinner where they praise Jenna's life choices."

"In what world is she more successful than you?" Spencer asks, not for the first time. "Besides the fact that she's a _manipulative psychotic bitch_ -"

"Glad to know you've gotten over the Jenna thing."

"-she's forty-something and broke because her business went bankrupt. She isn't married, she's childless, she's directionless-"

"I am well aware."

"-and _why_ would I ever get over this?" Spencer exhales heavily. "I am still so, _so_ mind-numbingly angry and… and… I'm getting off topic. This was about Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, I don't think this was ever about Thanksgiving."

She inhales a deep breath. "So… Are we appetizers or dessert this year?"

Toby smirks. "Well done. That only took a fraction of the time it usually takes for you to calm down."

She purses her lips, not amused. "Appetizers or dessert?"

"Dessert," Toby replies. "My father has specially requested your apple pie, because apparently last year he-"

"Wait, he _requested_ it? I did something right for once?" Spencer asks, her eyes wide. "Oh my god. _Oh my god_. We've been together for like twenty-something years and _all I had to do_ to get him to like me was bake a _fucking_ pie?!"

Toby laughs. "You said you didn't care what he thought."

"I don't. I really don't," She shrugs. "But… Come on, this is a breakthrough and you know it."

"I mean… I'd prefer if he liked you as a person and not as what you can do for him," Toby tells her. "But I guess it's a start."

"Ugh," Spencer frowns. "He can pretend he doesn't like your choices all he wants. I know he just doesn't like me. Which is _fine_ , but-"

"In what world is that fine?" Toby asks. "You'd think that since we've been together for twenty-something years and have three children together, he'd realize that neither of us is walking away from this thing."

"And by 'this thing' you mean our marriage?" Spencer chuckles. "Oh God, romance is dead."

"Yeah, we used to buy each other trucks and cross oceans quite literally for each other," Toby jokes. "And now we drink more alcohol than we probably should and cancel date nights on the regular."

"We don't do that! We went out last week."

"It was three weeks ago because it was our anniversary," He corrects her. "But before that? When was the last time we went out?"

"Shit. I have _no_ idea."

"See?"

"Whatever," Spencer shrugs. "We don't even need that. We never have."

"Yeah, we're pretty solid. I think that's great."

"It is," She agrees and chuckles. "How did this conversation even get started?"

"I don't know," He grins. "Should we go see if Henry and Lilly want to play a board game or something?"

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "Hen and I still owe you and Lilly an ass-kicking in the form of Taboo anyway."

"Good luck with that," Toby shakes his head. "He says the word _every_ time."

"I have a good feeling about tonight."

Toby grins and follows her lead. "So do I."

* * *

It's Saturday morning and Saturday has always been pancake day in their household. Spencer had perhaps had a bit _too_ much wine the night before drowning her sorrows after she and Henry had lost Taboo (again) and thus was still passed out cold, so Toby decides to get a head start on breakfast. He brews a pot of coffee and mixes the batter and while he's sizzling bacon on the stove and pouring perfectly round pancakes on the griddle, Lilly comes downstairs, bright-eyed and bushytailed, a grin upon her face. He kisses the top of her head in greeting and pours her a cup of juice. Frost is creeping in at the corners of all the windows in their kitchen and the grass is painted over with a thin, sticky form of ice. Though still technically fall by all calendars' standards, it would truly be winter within the week at this rate. Lilly's nearly finished with her breakfast when Spencer arrives and she and Toby converse of identical- or perhaps not so identical, considering how she takes hers- mugs of coffee, awaiting their youngest to awaken and greet the day and their oldest to return home. Once Henry's eaten and all the dishes are cleaned and put away, Toby sets aside a couple of pancakes and strips of bacon for when Grace returns home, hopeful it will still be morning when she does so.

It's actually quarter to five p.m.

"Sorry, we literally stayed up until the sunrise talking," Grace is all apologies when she spills over the threshold of their home, hanging the car keys on the hook beside the door. "McKenzie and Grant were committed to making the long distance thing work and he went and met someone else at school. Like… Are you kidding?"

"That was nice of him," Toby jokes, glancing up from his laptop. "Is she okay?"

"Okay as she can be, I guess," Grace shrugs, shaking her head. "Ugh. I am _so_ lucky to have Liam. I mean, we freaked out about the distance too, but I think we're doing okay."

"I told you it wasn't impossible," Toby says. "Your mother and I did it for years."

"Yes, and I wouldn't be here if you didn't, so thanks I guess," Grace jokes. "Where's everyone else?"

"Henry's at a friend's house for the afternoon and, actually, should be on his way home," Toby replies. "And your mother took Lilly out for a haircut."

"Oh," Grace says, shuffling her overnight bag on her shoulder. "I'm going to go put this stuff away."

"Okay," Toby nods. "What do you want to do for dinner tonight? We had your favorite last night, so… We were thinking Chinese or pizza. You know, order in, finally rent that movie…"

"Oh, um, actually…" Grace bites her lip. "Don't hate me, okay?"

"Gracie, never in million years," Toby says. "You know that. What's up?"

"Well… Like I said, Liam and I are trying to make distance work too," Grace explains carefully and Toby watches the cogs in her brain twist and turn as she chooses words that won't hurt her father too much. "But we're both home this week and… Well, we'd like to see each other as much as possible while we're home."

"So what you're telling me," Toby gathers. "Is that it's date night?"

Grace frowns a bit and suggests, "I can say no."

"No, honey, you should go," Toby shakes his head. "Really. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Toby nods. "Everyone'll understand. You don't get to see your friends or boyfriend very often anymore and so you want to hang out with them. I get it."

"I want to spend time with you guys too. I do." Grace insists. "We're going to dinner, but maybe later? When I get back? Or tomorrow. That might be better."

"Should I pencil you in?" Toby teases. "Are you sure someone else won't need you first?"

"Come on, Dad, I haven't been that bad," Grace says. "I can cancel on Liam. Let me just-"

"No, honey, I'm _joking_ ," Toby says. "Go on your date. Have a good time. Tell Liam we say hi."

Grace grins. "Thanks Dad. I will."

She tears upstairs and Toby tries to ignore the feeling of disappointment creeping into his veins as she goes. So far, in the twenty-four hours she'd been home, he's seen her for maybe two of them, not counting, of course, their drive home together. He tries to think of how he's going to explain her absence to his wife and younger children and decides to remain positive, as Spencer had uncharacteristically done the night prior. Grace comes down the stairs roughly twenty minutes later, offers her father a hasty goodbye and nearly runs her brother over in the doorway, pausing a moment to ruffle his hair in the way he hates. Henry irritably fixes his hair and watches her go, then glances back at his father, questioning. All Toby offers him is a shrug in response. He remembers the day when she'd been small, when she'd skipped to school holding her mother's hand, when he was the only guy in her life, and it all seems like a lifetime ago.

He realizes, quite astoundingly, it _was_.

An hour later, when the pizza arrives and Toby's passing out paper plates, Lilly comes downstairs and immediately balks at the four place settings and the one very absent one. " _Again_?"

"It's okay," Toby says immediately, taking his own place. "It's not a huge deal."

"Yes it is!" Lilly exclaims in a way very unlike her usual subdued manner. "Who gets her tonight if it isn't us?"

"The lovely boyfriend," Spencer replies. "Come on, we all saw it coming."

"Liam?" Henry asks. "I hate that guy."

"No you don't," Spencer disagrees. "He took you to the movies with them that one time _and_ bought you candy. Don't tell me candy isn't the way to your heart."

"It is if it's _good_ candy," Henry points out. "He bought me those gross chocolate things with the white sprinkles… What's it called? It looks like snow."

"Nonpareils?" Toby suggests and Henry nods eagerly.

"Yeah. Those are _gross_ ," He shakes his head. "I asked for Reese's Pieces. I hate that guy."

"We do not _hate_ people, Hen." His mother scolds.

"Okay, well I don't like him."

"I don't like that he gets to spend more time with Grace than we do," Lilly admits. "But he's not a bad guy."

"I told you," Henry says. "Grace was never really here. She's a figure of our imagination."

"Figment, honey," Spencer corrects, chuckling. "You guys are too much."

"I don't think so," Lilly disagrees. "Mom, did you miss Aunt Melissa while she was at school?"

"Honestly? Not really," Spencer says. "It was nice not having her in the house all the time."

"And when she came home, did you hang out with her?"

"Not if I could help it."

"But that's because you guys didn't get along," Lilly points out. "We _do_ get along with Grace."

"Yeah," Henry agrees with his sister. "Most of the time."

Toby shrugs, glancing at his wife. "They're not wrong, Spence."

"No, they're not, and I'm glad they're not," Spencer nods. "Your Aunt Melissa and I grew up hating each other and by some miracle, you three are not the same way."

"It's because we're awesome," Henry grins. "Way cooler than you and Aunt Melissa. Sorry, Mom."

Toby and Lilly both begin to chuckle and Spencer grins, too, shaking her head. "Yeah, you know what, Hen? That must be it."

* * *

It's nearing eleven p.m. when Spencer finally hears the garage door open and a car pull in. Grace is finally home.

She's alone, now. Henry and Lilly had argued for an hour over which movie to watch that night before giving up and going their separate ways for bed. Toby had been right here, on the couch beside her, and they read in a comfortable silence together before he began to fall asleep and she gently suggested he head upstairs to bed; she could wait for their daughter to return and relieve him of his duties. She's not sure how long their dinner actually had been, but the idea that they had stayed out long past dinner brings a smile to her face; how many nights had she and Toby stayed up, counting stars, talking for hours and hours while it had only felt like mere moments? Teenage love truly is a magical, all-encompassing thing and Spencer is so glad her daughter is experiencing it. She hears the interior door open and car keys jingle against the metal hook and in moments, there's a shuffle of feet on the tile and then carpet.

"Hey," Spencer calls out softly, a bookmark slipping into the crevice of her latest novel. "How was your date? How's Liam?"

"Um…" Grace utters quietly, her voice wavering and watery, overflowing with emotion. She steps further into the living room, where Spencer finally catches sight of her face in the moonlight. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks are tear-stained and instantly, a fire begins to race through her veins, mama bear protecting her cub. _Who do I have to hurt, baby? Who do I have to fight so that they look ten times worse than you?_

"Grace?" Spencer says and that's all it takes. Just her name.

"Mommy," Grace sobs and crumbles, breaks down, falls apart. She collapses onto the couch beside her mother and Spencer pulls her so close, she's essentially on her lap, a child again.

 _Mommy_. It had been years- eight? Ten, perhaps?- since Grace had uttered that word, since she had referred to Spencer as such a name, and it breaks her heart to hear it again, in this context. And perhaps it breaks her heart for another reason, too; when Toby had shattered her world and broken her own heart into a million jagged pieces, she, too, had wailed that very same word to her own mother in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability. And for a moment, now, all she can see is lightning streaking through the dark, stormy sky, rain pounding down on the window pane in sad, thick tears, and bright, sinful blue eyes under a dark hoodie, the worst night of her life. No, not the worst; the worst came later in a forest, in a clearing, with acorns and branches and _901: Free At Last_ on a body that almost was his. And it's funny, honestly, that it's easily been almost thirty years since this had happened and yet it still comes back to her every now and then and it still destroys her every single time. It's funny and she'd be laughing at the irony if she didn't feel like crying, if the memory didn't steal the breath from her lungs and all rational thought from her mind. It's funny, honestly, how her mind can still destroy her just as easily and effectively as it had all those years ago.

She inhales a deep breath and tries her best to focus on the topic at hand. It isn't about her right now. Her heartbreak is long since over and she must concentrate on her daughter, on how her body is shaking like a leaf, on how tears are streaming down her beautiful cheeks and her lungs are heaving with sobs. Spencer holds her tighter in response, smoothing her hair, rocking her gently, as though she were once again a small child. Her own heart aches in response to her daughter's pain and very soon after, she finds tears of her own beginning to leak from her eyes. She sniffles and shakes her head, wills them away, makes a promise to herself to mend Grace's heart before tending to her own. It's no use. Her child is pain and _no one_ hurts her child and gets away with it. Grace cries in her mother's arms for what seems like hours and Spencer holds her as long as she needs it. She does not pull away; she does not loosen her grip. She does not know what Grace needs, but Spencer is willing to give her everything she can.

Eventually, Grace's tears slow and she pulls reluctantly away from her mother's grasp. Her eyes are on her lap, her hands wringing, and Spencer reaches for them and they still. "Gracie… What happened?"

When it had been her, when it had been Toby, when her mother had asked this fateful question, Spencer had turned away, left the house, drove to Toby's and bawled on his steps for hours and hours. She's not letting Grace meet this same fate. Luckily for her, Grace doesn't seem interested in leaving. But her eyes do fill with fresh salty tears as she admits, "Mom, everything is so fucked up."

Spencer's eyes widen. Sure, her eldest has a sailor's mouth ("And where do you think she gets that from?" Toby says every time Spencer complains), but she'd never before heard Grace use _that_ word. "Grace Marion."

"I'm sorry. College has corrupted me," Grace sniffles. "I just… I don't even know where to start."

Spencer reaches up, tucks a lock of hair that's fallen loose from her ponytail behind her ear, and swipes at her tears. "The beginning is always good."

"Okay, well…" Grace exhales heavily. "We met at Olive Garden because I was really craving pasta and he was acting _so_ weird and saying all of these passive aggressive comments and complaining that he doesn't even like Italian, which is ridiculous, because we _always_ go to Olive Garden, you know? Like that's our go-to. The hostess even recognized us."

"That's never a good sign," Spencer comments. "You're regulars."

"Well, we _were_ ," Grace says. "And so I started talking about college and he was complaining that that's _all_ I talk about, but like… That's all I've done in the past three months, so what else does he want me to say? And so I asked about his classes and things and he said… He said we should talk."

"Uh oh."

"He told me the long distance thing wasn't working out," Grace continues, her voice shaky once more. "Which is complete news to me, because it's hard, yeah, but I thought we were doing okay. And I asked him if I could do something different; if we could set up a different phone call or FaceTime schedule or if we could visit more often or… Or something. And he basically told me not to bother."

"He said that?" Spencer asks, her eyes wide. "Why?"

"He told me he's transferring. That he _hates_ the school he's at now and he's transferring to NYU," Grace sighs. "And he doesn't want to be tied down when he goes to New York because it's a much bigger dating pool, I guess, than his state school. And I asked him if he already met someone… if he's seeing someone else, but… He wouldn't answer. And I think he has, because if not, then… Why not just say no?"

"Oh Grace," Spencer frowns. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"I asked him if breaking up is what he wanted and do you know what he said to me?" Grace asks. "He said, 'Isn't that what you want?' When did I _ever_ send him that message? In my daily texts to him? In our nightly phone calls? In the care package I sent him over midterm week?"

"No, sweetheart, this isn't your fault. It isn't you," Spencer shakes her head. "It's him. It's one-hundred-percent him. I know it's going to be hard not to, but don't blame yourself for this. You did _everything_ right."

"I… I love him," Grace crumbles again. "I _loved_ him."

"I know. I know you did," Spencer sighs and pulls her back into an embrace as she cries against her. "I know it's hard. And this is going to hurt for a while. But it'll be okay. It will, I promise."

"It's stupid and I _know_ it's stupid but I was thinking… I mean, I never thought Liam and I would get married and have kids, or anything," Grace swallows hard. "At least, not at first. But when we were together a little bit longer and then it was a year and then two… And when we decided to make the long distance thing work… I don't know. I thought, maybe… Maybe we could get married. Maybe we could be high school sweethearts, you know? Like… Like you and Dad."

She seems almost embarrassed to admit this and Spencer has no idea why. It makes her heart melt, honestly. "Oh honey, believe me, your father and I have had our fair share of ups and downs. Our relationship isn't perfect; no relationship is."

"I know," Grace sighs. "This whole thing just sucks."

"It does. I know it does."

"I feel stupid for crying over him," Grace says a bit quieter a moment later. "Like… I feel really, really stupid because I bet he doesn't even care."

"Oh, honey, I bet he cares," Spencer shakes her head. "You two were together for two and a half years. That's a long time for people your age. You don't just get over that in minutes. I'm sure he's grieving in his own way."

"Yeah, right."

"And it's never stupid to cry or to have feelings," Spencer says, making sure her daughter knows, for she had gone far too long without knowing this was true. "Let them out. Cry, scream, punch a pillow, break a plate… Do whatever you have to do. But you're going to get through this. You know it and I know it. You're strong. And I love you so, _so_ much."

"Thanks," Grace's smile is watery. "I love you too."

"And I'm always here when you need me, okay?" Spencer reminds her. "If you need to vent or rant or cry again… I'm here."

"I know."

"Do you want some ice cream?" Spencer then offers. "Ice cream and trashy magazines are the breakup remedy Hanna _swears_ by."

Grace laughs a bit but shakes her head. "Honestly, I just want to go to sleep."

Spencer nods. "We can do that too."

They ascend the stairs together, turning out lights on the lower level as they go, and Spencer perpetuates the childlike aura by tucking Grace into bed in a way she hadn't done in years. She kisses her forehead, whispers her love once more, and Grace is already half asleep when she returns the sentiment. Spencer retreats to her own bedroom and quietly opens the door, pads softly across the room, and ever so carefully climbs into bed beside her slumbering husband. It doesn't matter; he awakens anyway. It's just after midnight when he rolls to face her, his eyes bleary with sleep as they catch sight of the clock behind her, and he remarks, "Must've been some date. She just get home now?"

"Um…" Spencer trails off, biting her lip. "Not exactly."

His eyebrows rise. "Everything okay?"

"He broke up with her," Spencer sighs, Grace's sobs still echoing in her ears. "He's unhappy with his school and with their relationship and he's transferring next semester. He doesn't want to be tied down."

Toby frowns. "You've got to be kidding."

"Considering she just spent thirty minutes bawling in my arms," Spencer informs him. "I'm going to have to say no. This is real."

Toby shakes his head, suddenly wide-awake. "I'm going to kill him."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not," He exhales heavily. "But he's just supposed to get away with this shit?"

"There's nothing we can do about it except love and support her through this," Spencer points out and Toby frowns, knowing she's right. "It's awful and I'm upset, too. But… This happens. Relationships end, hearts get broken and… Boys make girls cry."

Toby shakes his head. "I thought he was different."

Spencer shrugs. "No one's ever different."

She catches his eye then and the look in those deep baby blues almost knocks her out. And perhaps it hadn't been about her before, but it's about her now. It's about _them_ now. Toby sounds so incredibly pained when he says, "Do you remember what I told you when Grace was having her nightmares? Years ago, when she was younger?"

She does. She'll never forget. _If Grace ever got her heart broken the way I know I broke yours, I would beat the ever-loving shit out of him like your father probably should have done to me_. "Yes. You don't have to make good on that promise."

"Maybe I should."

"Maybe you shouldn't," She disagrees. "I don't want to visit you at a correctional facility. And even if you did… Toby, that solves nothing."

"Maybe not, but it would feel good."

"You wouldn't hurt him. You couldn't hurt anybody."

"With the right motivation?"

She remains quiet because this has always been true. He's quiet and introspective and mild-mannered… unless someone harms the ones he loves. Then, he's anything but. "I love you. Grace loves you, too. But neither one of us wants to see someone physically harmed over this. You know that. He doesn't deserve it and Toby? You didn't either."

"It was years ago," Toby pleads with her to understand and he needn't; she already does. "And yet it still comes back to me like it was yesterday. It still haunts me, to this day, that I did that. That I was _capable_ of doing that."

Spencer shakes her head, assuring him. "You're capable of much more than that, believe me."

"Did it bring you back too?"

"Of course. It's my only experience with heartbreak," Spencer tells him and at the look on his face, she continues. "But I think our situation was vastly different from Grace's. And she's a good girl; I have full confidence that she'll bounce right back from this and find the right guy for her eventually. It doesn't have to be now, at eighteen; I mean, you and I were kind of a special case."

Toby smiles and nods his agreement. "I'll say."

She smiles, too, and runs a hand through his mussed hair, asking, "You good?"

"Yeah," He assures her, adding teasingly, "You know, first Grace, now me… You've gotten really good at this old comfort thing."

Spencer chuckles and says, "Well, I learned from the best."

* * *

"Okay hold on," Lilly says over breakfast the next morning. "Let me get this straight. What _exactly_ did he say? And how did she react?"

"Lil, I don't know the details," Toby replies, loading bowls into the dishwasher. "She told your mother, not me."

"Yeah but…" Lilly trails off. "You and Mom tell each other everything."

"You'll have to shake some information out of Grace," Toby tells her. "If she ever leaves her bedroom."

Henry shakes his head. "I told you I hated him."

"Henry," Toby chuckles. "You _just_ found out he broke up with her."

"Well, I guess I just knew it, then," Henry says. "I knew something was up with him."

"No you didn't," Lilly disagrees. "He was always _so_ nice to us."

"Except when we went to the movies that one time," Henry reminds her. "Remember the-"

"Yeah, the nonpareils," Lilly giggles. "Give it up."

"Guys, all I'm asking is for you two to be a little more sensitive with your sister today," Toby tells them. "She's upset, obviously, and I don't want you to say anything that will set her off."

"Why are you looking at me?" Henry asks after meeting his sister's eyes. " _I'm_ not going to say anything."

"No picking on her," Lilly says. "Dad's orders. He means you."

"Me?"

"You know how you are."

"Just… cool it, okay?" Toby warns them. "Seriously. I don't know where her head is going to be, so… Let's all just be careful about what we say."

"I don't understand how this happened because they were fine last week," Lilly frowns and then turns towards the doorway. "I'm going to go talk to her."

She doesn't get the chance. Grace comes bounding down the stairs, fully dressed, hair neatly pulled back, and a smile on her face. "Good morning! What's for breakfast?"

"Um…" Toby stammers a bit because he hadn't been expecting her cheery nature. "Well… We had cereal. I can make you some eggs or oatmeal or something."

"No, that's okay," Grace waves it off. "Cereal's good."

She pours herself a bowl and only after she's taken her first bite does she realize the other three members are staring at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Lilly's quick to assure her sister and Henry nods his agreement.

"You look _really_ pretty today."

"Thanks," She eyes him strangely. "You're being extra weird today. Where's Mom?"

"Laundry room," Toby answers. "Hey, we're actually all heading out today to grab some groceries. I thought it might be good if you came with us; you know, so you could pick out some snacks and things for the week and maybe even something for dinner tonight? We still owe you one."

"Oh…" Grace frowns a bit. "That sounds good except…"

"Except you've already made plans?" Toby guesses and she sighs.

"I _really_ am sorry I keep doing this," Grace sighs. "It's just… I told the girls to come over so we could talk about what happened… last night."

Lilly frowns, too. "Grace, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, totally. It's fine," Grace shrugs, finishing and placing her empty bowl in the dishwasher. "I don't even need him. It's just… Sometimes relationships run their course, you know?"

"Um," Lilly nods slowly. "Sure. I guess so."

Grace glances at the clock over the stove and her bright blue eyes widen. "Wait, is it really that late? Ugh, I told the girls to come over at eleven. I still need to shower!"

"Well…" Toby says. "Don't let us keep you."

"Thank you," Grace grins and leaps up to hug him. "I promise we _will_ hang out. All of us."

Spencer appears with a basket full of clean laundry and she, too, grins upon the sight of her daughter. "Morning, Grace."

"Good morning! And goodbye," Grace says, hugging her too. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

She ruffles Henry's hair and touches Lilly's arm in passing before disappearing up the stairs. Spencer glances after her and asks, "Goodbye?"

"The girls are coming over to discuss," Toby shakes his head. "I don't know. I can barely keep up with her."

"She didn't seem very upset," Henry shrugs. "Maybe she hated him too."

"Hen, she didn't hate him, she _loved_ him." Lilly shakes her head. "That's why I don't get it."

"Okay, I don't have time to delve into Grace's psyche. It's Sunday, I'm off the clock and we have way too much to do," Spencer says. "Go get dressed, get yourselves together, meet us back here."

Lilly sighs. "Maybe _someday_ we'll be a family of five again."

"Mom, I saved twenty dollars," Henry says next. "Can I buy something at the store?"

Spencer nods. "Sure."

He grins mischievously and instantly his mother turns to his father to ask, "Am I going to regret that?"

On the way up the stairs, Lilly nudges his arm, asking, "What was that about?"

Henry shrugs innocently. "I have a plan."

"A plan for what?"

He pauses at the top of the stairs, asking quietly, "Can I trust you?"

Lilly frowns. " _Obviously_."

He motions her closer, whispers his scheme and then grins at her. "Well?"

"That's _childish_ ," Lilly shakes her head and Henry smirks.

"I'm a child."

"Still."

"Does that mean you _don't_ want to help?"

Lilly bites her lip. "Will we get in trouble?"

"How would we?"

"Okay, _fine_."

They're navigating through the aisles of the supermarket roughly an hour later when Henry excuses himself and pulls Lilly alongside him. They're in the candy aisle when his eyes light up. "Bingo."

"Why are we doing this, again?" Lilly glances around anxiously. "I don't know about this."

"Relax, Lil. I'm not setting his house on fire or anything," Henry says, placing twenty dollars-worth of nonpareils in a basket of his own. "But you know what they say about revenge."

"It's a dish best served cold?"

"Yeah," Henry grins wickedly. "How cold do you think it is outside? Thirty or forty degrees?"

They checkout, with both Spencer and Toby eyeing their son's purchase with glances of confusion but denying to comment, and head for the car. The moment they hit the road, Henry asks to swing by a friend's house, as he'd forgotten something from his play date the previous day, and it _just so happens_ to be Liam's neighbor. Coincidence, yes? Lilly glances nervously out the window the whole drive home, as though imaginary prank police are tailing them, and Henry keeps shooting her frustrated glances, silently telling her to be cool. When they arrive home, none of Grace's best friends are there anymore and they balk when they realize it's nearing four o'clock. Instead, a soothing aroma wafts from the kitchen the moment they step over the threshold and Grace greets them at the door, a smile on her face despite the fact that her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. She isn't as okay as she seems.

"Okay, I sent the girls home, I put away the clean laundry and I'm making Grandma's lasagna," Grace says, reaching for the bags of groceries her parents are carrying. "We all still like lasagna, don't we?"

"It would be against family tradition if we didn't, wouldn't it?" Toby teases. "Why are you doing all this?"

"Because I feel really, really bad," Grace laments. "I haven't seen you guys at all and I've been home for three days."

"Yeah, but after what happened…" Spencer trails off, hesitant to bring it up. "We should be doing this for _you_."

"No, you've already done it," Grace shrugs. "I thought after we finished dinner we could build a fire and _finally_ rent that movie?"

Lilly's face lights up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Grace grins. "And Henry, we'll probably have to do this tomorrow, but my roommate has Mario Kart and so I've been practicing. You're about to get the ass-kicking of a lifetime."

Henry laughs. "You're on!"

Toby reaches for the groceries again and presses a kiss to his eldest daughter's cheek. "Thank you, monkey. You really are incredible."

"Dad," Grace squirms, her cheeks red. "I didn't do anything special."

"I disagree," Spencer shakes her head. " _You're_ special."

As they head to the kitchen to put away their latest purchases, Grace turns to her siblings, her grin instantly gone. "And you two."

Henry's face falls too, into a blissful ignorance. "What?"

"I'm sorry!" Lilly immediately wails, apologetic. "It was all Henry's fault! I only agreed because I wanted Liam to be as upset as you but I feel like we shouldn't have-"

" _Lilly_ ," Henry hisses. "We didn't do anything. I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Grace asks, reaching into her pocket and producing her cell phone for evidence. "So Liam got home today to find about sixteen thousand nonpareils frozen to his driveway and mailbox and doorstep and front door just by chance?"

"Aw man," Henry frowns. "They froze? The way the sun hit his house, I thought they'd melt and make a mess."

"Science was not on your side this time, Hen."

"Wait, _whose_ side?" Henry shakes his head, returns to denial. "I've done nothing wrong here."

"Honestly," Grace says. "He texted me with those pictures while I was sobbing to Brynn and McKenzie and Harper. And then I laughed. I actually _laughed_ because I remembered that day we went to the movies and I remembered how much you _hated_ those stupid chocolates and I knew that you were behind it immediately. I didn't text him back. But I really, really appreciated it."

Henry smiles a bit. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Grace grins. "It was really dumb but it made me really happy, which… I think is what you wanted, right?"

"Well, yeah," Henry nods. "You're my sister. No one's supposed to make you upset. And even though I'm younger than you, I'm still your brother, right? So it's kind of my job to mess with your ex-boyfriend- who I hate."

"So you're not mad at us?" Lilly asks hesitantly. "You're not going to tell Mom and Dad?"

"No, why would I?" Grace disagrees. "You guys are awesome. And I love you both."

"We love you too," Lilly grins and wraps an arm around her sister in a hug, Henry joining in from the other side.

"Even if you drive me crazy." Henry adds, a mischievous grin on his face as Grace chuckles.

"Even if you're a pain in my ass."

From the archway leading to the kitchen, Spencer overhears this and catches glimpse of her three children embracing, her eyes widening. "Toby… Come look at this."

He comes to stand beside her and his expression matches her. "Wow, we really missed something here, didn't we?"

"Yeah," She nods, still slightly awestruck. "I think we really did."


	18. love was made for me and you

**Hello friends and happy August! It has been a long time since I've updated and this little bastard is the reason why! For some unknown reason this chapter took me months to write. Like, literally months. I started this back in June and here it is, August 2nd, and I've just finished. What the hell. Nothing has ever taken me that long, but hey, there's a first time for everything. I hope it was worth it. I hope you at least enjoy it a little bit. Kind of? Maybe?**

 **The inspiration for this chapter comes from an article entitled "What Making Time for Your Marriage Really Means." I'm friends with a couple of people on Facebook who have children and they're always sharing these articles on this site called Scary Mommy and this was one of them. I read it even though I'm not married and no where near getting married, but it was a fun article and it made me laugh and, like everything, it reminded me of Spoby. So, here it is- Spoby, making time for their marriage, a la this article I read online. It's a good one- I recommend reading!**

 **Thank you for your continued support and your patience even though my updating schedule is so strange. The chapter title comes, once again, from Nat King Cole's "L-O-V-E." I love you all! Have a good night! :D**

* * *

love was made for me and you

The teakettle howls into the night, its yelp the only sound in the empty, lonely kitchen.

After a beat, Toby stands, reaches around her, and turns off the burner. "You'll wake the kids."

She glances up, snaps out of her dazed reverie, and apologizes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't… I didn't realize."

"It's okay," He assures her, sticking a tea bag into each of their mugs and distributing the water evenly. "Honey?"

She nods slowly and leans back against the countertop, accepting the mug but not drinking from it. The house is quiet, the moon is the only natural light filtering in through the window over the sink and the only sound emanating from their darkened kitchen is that of Toby's metal spoon clinking against the ceramic mug. Everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours comes rushing back to her and she feels like a zombie; her body is numb and feels weightless, the only thing functioning is her brain. She can't seem to shut off her overactive imagination, her anxiety filling in all the gaps with painful _what ifs_ , and she isn't used to being on this end of things. Usually, Toby's the one who goes away and she's left to hold down the fort until he comes back, something she's gotten well acquainted with in the past years, but now the roles are reversed. And it's not that she thinks he can't handle it; she knows he can. It's that she's not sure if _she_ can.

"I already told them I'll be away the whole week," Spencer says finally. "My clients. I've referred them all to Dr. Ford. But if they need to reach me for anything, if they call the house, just tell them my work cell will always be on."

Toby nods slowly. "Of course."

"And Henry's got that birthday party on Saturday," She goes on. "I already bought the gift. I just need to get a card."

"I'll take care of it."

"Grace has driver's ed Tuesday and Thursday," Spencer lists. "So she won't be home until late. She and McKenzie are in the same class, so Hanna usually drives her home. But she has rehearsal every other day, so you'll have to remember to pick her up."

"I know, Spence."

"And Lilly… shit, I was supposed to proofread her essay for her," Spencer sighs. "There aren't enough hours in the day, you know?"

"I can do that, too," Toby says. "Anything else?"

Spencer considers this, thinks long and hard, but comes up empty. "I don't think so."

He eyes her and she knows exactly what he's going to ask before he does. "Are you alright?"

She's lost count of the amount of times he's asked her this over the years, but she does know it's futile to pretend the opposite is true. "Not really."

Toby frowns and sets his mug down, stepping closer, across the distance between them. "Come here."

He collects her in an embrace and she holds him back so tightly, her knuckles turn white. She's never been good at this; any of it. She hadn't been close with her father's side of the family; in fact, she hadn't seen her grandmother since her wedding all those years ago, but she's the only grandparent Spencer had had left and now, in her absence, all that's left behind is guilt. The funeral is in a few days and Spencer's traveling back to Rosewood to be with her family during this difficult time and she's never handled death well. She's never handled _leaving_ well. It's something she's always known about herself, right from the beginning; she isn't good at letting go. And so anxiety and dread and guilt sink in instead and she doesn't know how she's supposed to feel. Death is so final, so inevitable, and yet, ironically, she hadn't expected it.

Toby hugs her for a long, long time. Spencer isn't complaining. She could stand here, holding onto him, breathing deeply, until the end of her days and she'd be completely satisfied. After a while, he asks softly, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Spencer sighs. "You can't."

"I could," He disagrees. "We can leave the kids with one of the girls for the week and I can talk to my boss. I could figure it out."

"No, it's okay," She shakes her head and shrugs out of their embrace. "You've got a busy week ahead of you and I don't want you to fall behind because I'm acting like a child."

He frowns. "Grieving isn't childish, Spence. I know you weren't close, but she was still a part of your family."

"I know, I just… I hate this," She sighs. "But I guess I don't have much of a choice. I already took a week of bereavement off work and I need to be there for my Dad."

"Was he close with her?"

"Is he close with anyone?"

Toby smirks the tiniest bit. "You keep up that firecracker attitude of yours and you'll get through this, no problem."

She smiles, too. "You think so?"

"I know so," He nods. "And then you'll be back here with us where you belong."

"Haven't even left yet and I'm already counting down the days."

Toby grins. "You good?"

Spencer considers this before pulling him back in for another hug. "One more for the road."

* * *

 _What time does Henry have soccer?_

 _Are you kidding? It's Wednesday. He has baseball and I told you this fourteen times._

 _That's a bit of an exaggeration._

 _It's not. Check our previous texts. Fourteen times._

 _You still haven't answered my question. His cleats are in the laundry room, right?_

 _Should be. Practice is at four. For the fifteenth time._

 _Hey, leave me alone. I'm getting forgetful in my old age_.

"Spence?" Emily jars her from her thoughts and the brunette in question glances up from her phone. "Hey. Welcome back to the land of the living."

"I'm sorry," She shakes her head, setting her cell phone back down on the table. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were taking any new clients," Emily repeats. "A friend of mine- well, her son, really, was just diagnosed with ODD and she said the doctor at the hospital was really short and impatient with her and she wanted to know if I knew any children's psychologists."

Aria puts in, "And since you're really the only one with the medical degree, we figured you might want to."

"Although, considering everything we went through as teenagers," Hanna adds. "We could probably all talk some sense into this kid."

Spencer smirks. "With that attitude? I'm not sure you're the best for the job."

 _Your mother sent us an invitation for your father's surprise party. Never thought sixty-seven was a milestone- or that he was one for surprises._

 _Oh he isn't. This ought to be good. When and where?_

 _Last Sunday in August and where else? The club! God how I hate that club. You know they're the only ones in Rosewood who still seem to think I'm a monster._

 _I know. I hate it too._

 _What are we getting him, gift-wise?_

 _Our presence isn't presents enough?_

 _Word play. Nice. Very punny._

She chuckles and Hanna rolls her eyes. "Stop texting Toby and come back to us. We're having a conversation here and you're being rude."

"I'm sorry. I know; this is really bad of me," Spencer assures them but texts back a quick reply instead.

 _The girls are hounding me. Make sure you pick up whole wheat bread, toothpaste and ground beef, unless you want to have vegetarian tacos tonight_.

 _Got it. Tell them I say hi!_

"Literally _what_ are you even doing?" Aria wonders. "I feel like you two are always texting each other nonstop, but this is just crazy."

"It's not crazy. It's called making time for our marriage," Spencer explains and then turns the screen towards them, adding, "He says hi, by the way."

"How is this making time for your marriage?" Hanna asks in genuine curiosity. "I must be missing something, here."

"Yeah, enlighten us," Emily says before cheekily adding, "Also, hi Toby."

Spencer chuckles. "Well, if we text each other fifty times a day about all the minute details or little things, then we have more time to actually _talk_ to each other later. And, hopefully, we won't get caught up dealing with stupid shit like grocery lists or what to get my father for his birthday."

"Huh," Aria considers this a moment. "That actually makes a lot of sense."

"So let me get this straight," Hanna shakes her head. "You text all day about nonsense and then get home and get to have an _actual_ conversation?"

"Yeah. That's the idea."

"Brilliant," Hanna exclaims. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"I mean, it's not like it's a new thing," Spencer shrugs. "And we certainly didn't patent it. Give it a try."

The blonde laughs. "Don't mind if I do."

* * *

He feels her jolt awake against him, lift her head from his chest, disoriented, and it brings a smile to his face.

"That's the third time you've fallen asleep," Toby teases her, glancing at the cable box. "And it's been on maybe thirty minutes."

"No, I'm awake, I'm totally awake," Spencer yawns, sitting a little straighter. "That political skit? Had me in stitches. Hilarious."

"That was like twelve, thirteen minutes ago?" He chuckles. "You fell asleep."

"No, no. I'm watching this one. Tina Fey is amazing."

"Tina Fey hasn't been on in _years_ ," Toby says. "You fell asleep."

"Okay, _I fell asleep_ ," Spencer yawns again, settling back into him. "It's after midnight, I'm growing a human, I spent all day chasing a toddler, and all night arguing with an eight-year-old on how to complete her math homework. You know this Common Core bullshit is _probably_ going to kill the both of us, right?"

"It is pretty ridiculous, honestly."

"And _Saturday Night Live_ hasn't been funny since… I don't even know when."

"True, but it was this, _Chopped_ , or _House Hunters International_ ," Toby suggests. "And in your eloquent words, 'Fuck the wannabe chefs and the whiny couples looking for an excuse to argue'."

Spencer bites her lip. "Yeah, that sounds like me."

"And yet, even _Saturday Night Live_ , the only option you agreed on, is letting you down."

"It's just so _boring_."

"There is no pleasing you." He says. "You're such a pain in the ass."

"Ugh, I know I am. Why do you put up with me?"

"Because you're _my_ pain in the ass," He tells her, pulling her closer, still, and kissing the top of her head. He feels tension relieve from her shoulders, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and they're quiet just a moment. "Is it just me or is there a commercial every five minutes?"

"Yeah, there is. TV these days," She shakes her head. "Is it bad that I don't even care what's on? I just want to hang out with you."

"I want to hang out with you, too," Toby tells her. "And yet, every time we do, one of us always falls asleep."

"Our life is exhausting."

"Yeah. It's also after midnight."

"Maybe we should just go to bed."

"And give up on our incredible bonding time?" He jokes and switches off the television, standing and extending a hand towards her. "Come on. We're obviously too old to stay up this late."

"Oh my God," Spencer groans and takes his hand, following him up the stairs. "We _are_ too old for this. Remember how late we used to stay up? In the beginning? When we'd stay up until like two, three, four a.m. just talking or having sex? When you'd come to visit me at school and we'd stay up to watch the sunrise? Talk about the future like we had any control over it or any clue what the hell was going to happen?"

"Yeah," He nods. "That was a long time ago. You don't like the way the future panned out?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't change a thing," Spencer shakes her head, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed. "Actually, that's not true. I wish I got an equal amount of time with the girls and with you everyday without being exhausted during one of them."

"Me too," Toby agrees. "But the time we do get together is pretty great."

"Yeah," Spencer smiles sleepily. "That's definitely true."

* * *

Toby has always considered himself to be a very patient human being.

His son tests this patience every single day.

"So the new architect started today," Toby says over dinner that evening, passing a napkin to Lilly. "And man, is he a piece of work."

"Oh jeez," Spencer shakes her head. "Testing your authority already?"

"Hey Daddy!" Henry shrieks excitedly from beside him. "Guess what?"

He can spot the excitement in his son's eyes and briefly pauses the conversation to ask, "What's up, bud?"

"Today at recess, we were playing kickball," Henry spouts excitedly. "And I kicked it on my turn and it flew through the air and landed _all_ the way on the other side of the field!"

"Wow! My little sports star," Toby grins. "That's awesome. Good job, Hen. Did your team win?"

"Yeah we did!"

"Wow, first soccer, now kickball. You're turning into quite the athlete," Toby comments and turns back to his wife. "Are all of our kids going to be exactly like you or are we going to get some variety, somewhere?"

She rolls her eyes, a grin on her face. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Right, so the new architect-"

"And Daddy, guess what?"

"Hen," Toby tells him gently. "I'm talking to Mommy right now and as soon as I'm done, you can tell me all about your game, okay?"

"Do people even still play kickball?" Grace asks. "That seems like a game of the past."

Spencer shakes her head. "The new architect?"

"Yeah, so he's from this firm in Philly-"

"We play kickball still," Henry defends himself. "What do you play at recess, Gracie?"

"There's no recess in high school, Henry," Lilly replies.

"Yeah, but I feel like we need it more than you do, anyway," Grace says. "You're in first grade; what do you need a break from? Coloring? Counting blocks?"

"No! We do real school stuff too!"

"Guys, we're at the dinner table. Fighting and eating don't mix," Spencer gently chastises. "Grace, if we could make it through _one_ meal where you don't rile him up, that would be fantastic."

"Fine, fine!" Grace sighs overdramatically. "It's just so easy, though."

"Daddy, guess what?"

"Henry," Toby tries again. "Can I please finish my sentence? Then, I promise you, I will listen to every last detail about that fantastic kick and your amazing game. Okay?"

He pouts just a little. "Okay."

Spencer's smile is tight when she asks, "The architect?"

"Yeah, the architect," Toby continues, but suddenly, he doesn't remember anything at all about his workday.

Henry tugs on Toby's left arm and begs, "But Daddy, I really, _really_ want to tell you what happened next."

Toby grins and asks, eyes wide, "What? What happened next?"

Spencer grins, too, and Toby hears all about how Henry had scored not one, not two, but _five_ points in the game, including the one that had given them the win.

And he never gets back to the story about the architect. Following a story like Henry's, it doesn't seem very important.

* * *

Nothing captivates her children quite like finger foods and _Sesame Street_.

In no way, shape, or form would Spencer _ever_ have suspected this show would still be on. Her mother had watched it as a child, _she_ had watched it as a child, and now her children are here, completely enthralled by Elmo's antics and Oscar's grouchiness. Lilly and Henry are perched on the couch with identical plastic plates full of French toast and fresh fruit, eyes glued to the screen in a way they relish, as their television time is very limited. Grace, being a bit older than her preschool-aged sister and toddler brother, is much less interested in the program, and instead is eating her breakfast at the dining room table, putting together a puzzle. They're otherwise occupied; a bomb could off in this house, a tornado could rip through the living room, and Spencer's not quite sure even one of them would notice.

And actually, this is what she's counting on.

She glances at the clock in the hallway and makes a mental note that television time ends in twenty-three minutes. This doesn't bother her; they've made do with less. She scurries up the stairs, towards their bedroom, and hears the shower running in their bathroom, a slow, heated grin already forming on her mouth. Her top and bra are already off by the time she's over the threshold in the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. If Toby hears her come in, he doesn't make this apparent; she slips out of her shorts and underwear and drums her fingers on the glass door of the shower, adrenaline racing through her veins.

He opens the door to allow her entry, and the look in his eyes is inquisitive and intrigued and much too delicious for words. "Oh no. I know that look."

She snakes her arms around his neck and pulls his mouth downward, his body already reacting to hers. In between kisses, he pulls back to say, "All three of them are home and all three of them are awake. This is not a good idea."

"Yeah. It's terrible." She agrees and brings his lips back to hers.

They kiss feverishly for a few moments more, warm water cascading over their entwined bodies, before Toby again asks, "Seriously, what has gotten into you?"

"Not you, yet," Spencer replies irritably. "We have, like, fifteen minutes left and you're wasting them."

"Ah, we're on a time crunch," Toby nods, understanding. "You've got this all figured out."

"Yeah, and you not playing along isn't any fun. Am I going to have to drive this bus myself?" Spencer teases and he chuckles. "Come on. Shush. I can think of better uses for your mouth."

She squeals as he lifts her into his arms, gasps as her back hits the cool tile, and then he silences her with a single kiss. It always amazes her how passionate they can be regardless of their circumstances, regardless of how long they've been together or how close their children are in proximity, and she lives for it; she lives for these moments, right here, when it's just the two of them in the most intimate of settings. His body stays curled around hers, even when they've finished, even when her feet touch the ground again, even when the water runs cold. They wrap themselves in identical towels and find they can't stop smiling. Toby's got that familiar twinkle in his eyes Spencer can't get enough of and when they're dried and dressed, they find their way back downstairs, hand in hand.

The next program is beginning and Spencer switches it off as Henry crawls into her lap on the couch. "Your hair's all wet, Mommy!"

"Yeah, I had to take a shower, Hen," Spencer explains, tangling her fingers in his curls. "You know how you take a bath when it's time to get all clean?"

"But Daddy," Lilly asks from beside her father. "I thought _you_ were taking a shower?"

"Oh, I did, honey," Toby explains, winking at Spencer from the other end of the couch. "But it turns out, Mommy was dirty, too."

* * *

There's something about being back in Rosewood again that always makes her feel like a teenager and, standing here in the kitchen of her childhood home, armed with the latest secret, certainly isn't helping matters.

They're celebrating Vivian's ninth birthday at her parents' house with a barbeque in the backyard. They have a bunch of family friends over and Melissa's running around the house like a madwoman, but there had been a troubling look in Veronica's eyes from the moment all the company arrived. It had left Spencer so very unsettled and therefore, when she got the chance, she pulled her mother aside and asked after her wellbeing… and is, now, kind of regretting it. Grace had run past her mother to join her cousin and a few others in the bouncy castle they'd set up by the pool and Spencer, eager to get her one-year-old out of the blazing sun, had settled herself in the kitchen, the baby on her hip as she speared pineapple and watermelon onto trays in order to bring them to the guests outside. And she feels like a teenager, honestly, with gossip plaguing her mind, and she must tell someone before she explodes.

The backdoor opens and Toby steps inside, his body instantly sagging with relief as the air conditioning welcomes him in from the heat and humidity of the late July afternoon. "Oh, there you guys are. You two disappeared on me and left me alone to fend for myself against all your crazy relatives."

"Sorry," Spencer tells him apologetically and shifts Lilly to her other hip as she reaches for a brand new empty tray for fruit. "I was talking to my mom and then Lilly got fussy and I wanted to get her out of the sun. I told her I'd help."

"It's fine. I was just wondering where you'd run off to," Toby says, coming to sit on the stool opposite where she stood. "How is your mom? I haven't gotten a chance to ask her yet. She seems-"

"Distracted?" Spencer fills in and when he nods, she adds, "Yeah. I think we both are, now."

Toby snatches a chunk of pineapple and chews slowly, asking, "By what?"

"By McDreamy over there," Spencer rolls her eyes, nodding towards the far end of the pool, where her brother-in-law is blowing up a pool float shaped like a donut.

"McDreamy?" Toby questions, a small smirk upon his face. "Should I be concerned? I thought you and your mother _hated_ him."

"Well hate's a strong word, but we're certainly not his biggest fans," Spencer frowns. " _Melissa's_ the one who should be concerned, though. Not you."

Toby's eyebrows furrow for just a moment, before his face melts into a wry grin. "Are you referencing _Grey's Anatomy_?"

"Yes, Toby, keep up."

"Oh my god," He bursts into laughter. "McDreamy. That's incredible. That's what I'm going to call him from now on."

"Though this is madness," Spencer recites. "Yet, there be a method in it."

"You went from an ABC drama to a Shakespeare play? You are all over the place."

"My mother thinks he's sleeping with his newest intern," Spencer explains, her voice low even though they're the only ones indoors. "Some new blonde girl named Kristin. And you know, you think this shit only happens on soap operas, but in reality…"

"Spence, I'm sorry and believe me, if it's true, I feel sorry for Melissa," Toby says, sobering the tiniest bit. "But he definitely fits the type. He's always had a wandering eye. Personally, I'm glad it's not on you, anymore."

"Me too," Spencer agrees. "But I'd prefer if it wasn't on anyone."

A bit later, when they're sitting down to dinner, Toby has the unfortunate pleasure of sitting beside his brother-in-law and Spencer's cringing enough for the both of them. It's taking everything in her power not to strangle him on the spot, regardless of whether or not there is any truth to the rumor, because to be honest, it's been a long time coming. She busies herself cutting chicken and spooning corn and rice onto the tray of Lilly's high chair and simultaneously helping Grace with her food selections as well as Wren instantly engages Toby in rousing conversation. "So! Toby! How's business been? Keeping busy?"

It's the question he always asks and Spencer knows just how much it boils her husband's blood. But he's calm as a cucumber when he returns with, "Sure. Lots of late nights, lately, to get these projects done by the deadlines, but I'm sure late nights are something you're used to, huh Dr. McDreamy?"

Spencer smirks and nearly chokes on the iced tea she's sipping. Wren's expression falls into one of confusion as he asks, "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were used to late nights," Toby presses on. "I just assumed so, since being a doctor isn't a nine-to-five job, right McDreamy?"

"That name…"

"What?" Toby plays it cool. "Oh, do they not call you that?"

Spencer has a hand clapped over her mouth to stifle her laughter. There's certainly no one who gets under Toby's skin _quite_ like Wren does- and she'd be lying if she said it didn't amuse her every time.

"Mate," Wren replies, glancing from Toby to his wife and back again. "I have no idea what you're on about."

"Alright, my mistake," Toby says and when Wren engages his father-in-law in conversation next, Toby turns to his wife and says, his voice lowered, "That's a handy new trick."

"Oh my god," Spencer's still laughing and everyone around them is looking on as if they're in their own little world. "You're awful."

"Maybe," He shrugs and hands Grace a napkin when she spills barbeque sauce on her lap. "But I'm not the one sleeping with my intern."

"Allegedly!"

"Probably."

"Fair enough," Spencer shrugs and smiles at the rest of the table when they return to the actual conversation. They don't seem to grasp what could possibly be so funny.

And, of course, Spencer's used to this by now. She's accepted long, long ago that when it comes to her family, they will always be on the outside.

* * *

He dreams he's falling, an invisible being has pushed him, and when he glances over his shoulder he notes he'll be falling into a pit of sharks circling in rough waters. He awakens just before he hits the water, his eyes flying open and breathing sharp, heart racing, and notes he's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and the sun has not yet begun to rise in the skies outside their bedroom. One of his arms is hanging off the side of the bed and the duvet is resting, askew, on only half of his torso and one of his legs. Disoriented, Toby squints at the clock on his bedside table and notes it's just after six a.m. It's one of those mornings; where he wakes up before the sunrise and should take advantage of this, but knows, more likely than not, he'll turn over and fall asleep again. Maybe he should get dressed and go for a run or start breakfast for the kids or get a jumpstart on that paperwork he didn't finish the night before. He sighs and resigns himself to his morning…

… But then he glances over at Spencer, curled up and oblivious, beside him, and decides against it.

Pulling the duvet more firmly around his body, he shifts onto his side and snuggles closer to her, an arm wrapping around her middle as their limbs instantly tangle. He buries his face into her mop of curls, fanned out against the pillow, and inhales the sweet smell of her shampoo, feeling at peace and at home. Unconsciously, she tugs him closer, her own arm covering his and in this moment, their breathing synchronizes and he could lie here like this all day with no complaint. Of course, he has many things to do; he has to get the kids dressed and fed and out the door, he has to get Grace on the bus and drop Lilly off at preschool and Henry at daycare, he has a full day of work and then he's working late tonight on one project and shipping out tomorrow morning to Connecticut for another, which means he also has to pack a bag. But none of that matters right now. Right now, he'd like more sleep and he'd like to hold onto his wife as long as he can while simultaneously ignoring his more pressing responsibilities.

He doesn't fall asleep again and this mildly irritates him. Instead, he watches the sun begin to slowly make its ascent into the morning sky and half past the hour, Spencer's alarm disturbs the quiet peace. He can tell she's ripped from a sound sleep from the way she reaches out and blindly grapples with it instead of immediately shutting it off. It makes him chuckle the tiniest bit; it's not often that Spencer gets to indulge in the luxury of sleep, or _allows_ herself to indulge anyway, but when she does, she prefers not to be bothered. This morning, especially, is going to be a difficult one, he can tell. She doesn't push back the covers and step out of bed. She doesn't begin getting dressed for work or head to the adjoining bathroom for a shower. She doesn't even nudge him so he awakens, too. Instead, she rolls over in his embrace, tucks her head beneath his chin and burrows deep into his chest, letting out a long sigh.

"Skip work and stay in bed with me all day."

"Don't tempt me," He murmurs in response and holds her tighter. "I don't think you understand how much I want to do that."

"I don't think _you_ understand how serious I am," She replies. "Once you and I get out of this bed, we won't be getting back in it together for over a week."

"Nine days," Toby tells her. "That's not so bad."

"That's over a week."

"Yeah, well, with three kids and a full-time job, I'm confident you'll find plenty to keep you busy," Toby tells her and she pulls back to make sure he witnesses her eye roll. "I'll miss you. All four of you. But you'll be fine and I'll be back soon."

She asks, "Does it make it easier for you when you say that?"

"Nothing makes it easier for me."

She smiles a bit and then rests her head upon his chest once more. He uses this as an opportunity to press a kiss to her crown and then closes his eyes in pleasure. "Should we really do this? Should we just stay here, like this, all day?"

"Obviously," Spencer agrees. "It's one of my favorite things; when we can just lay here and shut out the world."

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't one of his favorites, too. But from the other end of the hallway, a door creaks open and soon, there's the soft padding sound of tiny footsteps on the carpet. Toby smirks and says, "The world refuses to be shut out, today."

"That's okay," Spencer grins when their bedroom door opens and a tiny blonde head pokes in. "For her, I will make an exception."

"Mommy?" Lilly asks, her voice still thick with sleep. "Are you awake?"

Spencer pulls herself from her husband's embrace and sits up, stretching and greeting their sweet middle child with a grin. "Morning, munchkin. Sleep well?"

She nods and scurries across the floor, climbing with some difficulty onto the bed with her parents. Spencer presses a kiss to her cheek and Toby tickles her belly, teasing, "You didn't ask if _I_ was awake, sunshine. What happened? Are we not best friends anymore?"

Lilly shakes her head, disagreeing, and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. "You're not sleeping, Daddy."

"She's got you there," Spencer says. "Besides, when have the two of you _not_ been best friends?"

Toby chuckles; his wife has a point. Both of his daughters are the definition of daddy's girls, but Lilly in particular has been glued to his side since the moment she left the womb. "Well, Mommy's not wrong, either. Are you going to miss me when I'm gone, Lil?"

She nods and asks, "Are you coming back?"

"Are you kidding? I can't _wait_ to get home to my two favorite girls and my favorite little man and I haven't even left yet," Toby says and Lilly beams. "Oh, and I guess your Mommy's okay, too."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "I've said it before and I'll say it again- you two are going to be the death of me."

"Mom?" A new voice rings into the conversation and when the three of them glance up, Grace is in the doorway with baby Henry on her hip, part of her latest 'little mother' phase. "Henry climbed _out_ of his crib and I found him playing on the floor. We have to lower the mattress again."

Spencer eyes the one-year-old gumming his sister's nightgown and frowns, glancing at her husband to ask, "You're going to leave me here to deal with this? The cast of _Prison Break_?"

Toby chuckles. "I believe in you, babe. You're more than capable."

He kisses her chastely and ignores Grace's fake gagging sound before scooping Lilly into one arm and gently taking Henry into his free one. "Alright, who wants breakfast?"

"Me!"

"Alright! Gracie, get the milk. Lilly, go sit in your chair," Toby says as the girls scamper down the hall towards the staircase. To Henry, he adds, "And _you_ need to take up your complaints with the warden, otherwise you'll end up in solitary confinement."

"Ma-ma?" Henry wonders and Toby chuckles, turning back to gauge his wife's reaction.

"Hear that, Spence?" He grins. "He knows his place."

"Damn straight," She grins back, finally getting out of bed, late already. "Everyone should."

He steps closer to kiss her once more. A lazy morning it could not be and yet, it still somehow feels nonetheless perfect.

* * *

In the middle of her lunch break, she gets a text from Toby that she mostly can't decipher. They'd been pretty heavy on their phones all day; her appointments are few and far between, so far, and he's just doing inventory before his meeting with his employers later this afternoon. They'd spent the morning in bed, alternately talking and making out, taking full advantage of Henry's week at sleep-away camp and Grace and Lilly's respective sleepovers at friends' houses, but alas, real life had interrupted before they could take it somewhere from which they could not return. She may or may not have instigated a little saucy texting on her part (okay, she totally did) a few moments earlier, indicated to make him chuckle and reciprocate, but she's kind of stuck, now. As love-struck teenagers, they would text nonstop whenever they were apart and not all of them were G-rated. This one, however, pretty much stumps her; it's all emoji and no words- the red circle with the slash through it, the jeans, and the salsa-dancing girl.

She stares at it for a solid five minutes and texts back, _What the hell is that?_

Her one-fifteen appointment begins and she pretends to take notes on her legal pad as her fifteen-year-old patient drones on and on about how much she hates her parents (and Spencer makes a mental note to hug her own fifteen-year-old when she gets home), but really, she's still staring at that text Toby had sent. In minutes, he replies, _Come on, Spence. Two Ivy League school degrees and you can't figure out a text?_

She rolls her eyes, replying, _Maybe use your words, next time_.

 _That would spoil the fun._

In minutes, he replies with another emoji- the slot machine with triple lucky 7s. Spencer frowns, _Vegas?_

 _Jesus. What are we going to get up to when we get home?_

 _Are we finishing what we started this morning?_

His response is an emoji of a screw and it's then that she finally gets his previous texts- getting lucky and the no-pants dance. She can't help it; a chuckle escapes her lips and, alarmed, the fifteen-year-old glares at her. Spencer's pretty sure she could murder her husband right about now; she apologizes for the disturbance and tucks her phone away, devoting her full and complete attention on the topic at hand. Okay, _most_ of her attention. Well, some of it; for the rest of the session, all Spencer can truly focus on is how to return the favor and perhaps take _his_ focus away from his job and place it back on her. The answer is right there in front of her; in fact, it's almost _too_ easy. She'd married a carpenter, after all.

Right when his meeting begins, she texts him, _Good luck, babe! Hope the meeting goes well- I know you'll nail it. It's your specialty_.

His reply is simple- _Wait, I really can't do this right now_.

Grinning lasciviously, she knows she's got him. _Do what? I'm just wishing you luck. I'm sure you'll blow the competition out of the water._

 _Spencer, later_. _Please!_

 _Everyone's going to be so impressed with you. You're going to screw the competition so hard._

 _Jesus I really opened a can of worms, here_.

Laughing, she adds, _Did you decide on the wood you're going to use? Hardwood's always been my favorite._

He doesn't respond until much later and just when she thinks she's broken him, he replies with a winking emoji and a simple reply of, _Tonight._

Her heart flutters as she tells him, _Can't wait._

* * *

She finally finds a way to scatter Henry's nightlight in a way that will give him protection against invisible monsters but won't be too bright for him to fall asleep. Hoping this will finally satisfy him, she kisses him goodnight _again_ , straightens the sheets and comforter _again_ and tells him she loves him before stepping out into the hallway and closing his bedroom door behind her. She never expected bedtime would ever be this much of a struggle. It hadn't been with Grace; every night, they'd read her a story, tucked her in and she'd be asleep within minutes. But their younger two… Well. They told a different story. This evening, Henry had complained that his nose was too itchy and then that the blankets were too scratchy and then that he was hot and then that he was cold and then that the room was too dark and then it was too light and honestly, Spencer's head is spinning. This kid tries her patience every single night and, honestly, she's beginning to think he's enjoying himself.

Just when she thinks she's finally gotten time to herself (to do a load of laundry and clean up from dinner and pay the electric bill because _real_ time to herself doesn't exist, anymore), she hears his tiny voice call out, "Mommy?"

Sighing, Spencer remains on her side of the door when she replies, "Yes Hen?"

"I can't sleep."

Smirking, she glances at her watch- 10:32, _holy shit_ \- and calls back, "Close your eyes. Count to one hundred. You'll be fine."

"No I won't."

"Shh," Spencer replies. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"But _Mommy_ ," he whines back and she wonders if he'd had too much sugar at the bonfire earlier in the evening. Who is she kidding? He's a five-year-old boy on summer vacation; of _course_ he had.

Opening his door once more, Spencer glances inside and notes he's lying on his stomach in the opposite direction of his pillow, his chin in his hands. She chuckles and says, "Of course you can't sleep, Hen. You're on your bed the wrong way!"

"Can I watch a movie?"

"Is it going to be playing on the inside of your eyelids?"

Henry frowns and pouts the tiniest bit and Spencer wills herself to stay strong. _Do not give into this kid… again_. "But _Mommy_ …"

"No buts. It's bedtime," Spencer tells him and pats his pillow twice as he reluctantly crawls back into bed. "You already stayed up much later than you should have."

"But I _can't sleep_ ," He insists, crossing his arms over the blankets just as a yawn reluctantly escapes his lips. "I'm going to stay awake _all_ night."

"Okay, but you're going to be very sleepy tomorrow," Spencer counters. "You were so excited to go to the waterpark, remember? I don't think you'll have a good time on the slides if you're falling asleep."

He frowns and she can tell he's contemplating this, because he doesn't reply. She grins again and kisses his forehead, whispering, "I love you, Henry. Please get some rest. Close your eyes and think happy thoughts. You'll be asleep in no time."

He nods and obeys, his little eyes closing, and he looks _so_ cute she almost can't stand it. But she swipes some hair away from his face, kisses him again, and heads out of the room, the door closing softly behind her. She has no idea why this always takes three years to do every night, but it's exhausting. At the same time, the door on the opposite side of the hallway opens and closes and releases her husband, looking equally drained, and she has to chuckle because Lilly and Henry couldn't be any more different if they tried, and yet, when it comes to bedtime, their techniques are the same. For Lilly, there aren't enough hugs or kisses or stories in the world and she will easily keep her parents there all night, if they let her.

"How many tonight?" Spencer asks and Toby nods as if he's been expecting this very question.

"Five bedtime stories, three long hugs, countless kisses, a song, and a partridge in a pear tree," Toby lists. "I am _wiped_."

"Tell me about it," Spencer stretches, massaging her left shoulder gently with the opposite hand. "I thought I'd strain a muscle from craning over Henry's bed for thirty minutes. Bedtime is bedtime; why is this such a struggle every night?"

"Because we indulge them," Toby answers and steps closer, turning her towards the wall and beginning to work the sore muscles that never seem to relax. "You answer Henry's every demand, regardless of how ridiculous it is."

"I can't help it; he's my _baby_ ," She claims, but knows he's right. She's pretty much powerless to deny him, most of the time. But, she knows it's something they mutually suffer from; she replies, "And _you_ couldn't tell Lilly no if your life depended on it. Whether she asks for one more story or ten, she gets it."

"Yeah," Toby sighs, his fingers working delicately between her shoulder blades. "But I can't help that, either. She won't want to hang out with me forever. I've got to get it in while I can."

Spencer frowns at this, knowing what he's referring to. Their sweet thirteen-year-old is brilliant and positive and upbeat, but she isn't big on the family time, these days, much preferring to be highly involved in summer camps and chasing the summer sun with her best friends. Before she can comment on this, however, Toby reaches a particularly tender spot and she moans in pleasure as he releases it. "How are you still this tense twenty years later?"

"Born that way," She replies and she imagines he's mouthing it along with her, for that's always been her response. "Even though I'm _technically_ a Cavanaugh now, that doesn't take away the years upon years of stress from being a Hastings."

He chuckles and leans closer, kissing her neck and shoulder. "Is it time for our bedtime routine now?"

She grins but turns in his arms, pecking him on the lips before turning him down. "I wish, but I still have _so_ much to do and even though it's late, I'm nowhere near ready."

"Mommy?"

She lets out a sigh and says, "And apparently, neither is he."

"Goodnight, Hen," Toby calls back in response and although there's a brief silence, it doesn't stick.

"Daddy? Where's Mommy?"

"What, Hen?" Spencer calls back, ignoring the look on Toby's face.

"I'm thirsty. Can I have some water?"

"Sure baby," Spencer resigns and Toby shakes his head, a smirk still ever present on his face.

"I'll get it. You get to work on all those things you still need to do," He says and she melts, grateful. "Then I'll meet you in bed and we can figure out a way to make it so that our kids don't rule the roost when it comes to bedtime."

Spencer chuckles and agrees wholeheartedly. "It's a date."

* * *

"I'm getting alcohol," Spencer says before they even sit down and Toby chuckles, pulling the chair out for her before he takes his own in front of her.

"You are?" He wonders. "Wow. This is a big moment."

"Are you kidding? It's a _huge_ moment," She says. "Do you remember the last time I had alcohol?"

"No, but something tells me you do."

"November twenty-eighth at 5:16 p.m." She says and he's both amused and impressed. Sometimes, he thinks Spencer's brain is actually an Excel spreadsheet, because she neither misses nor forgets _anything_. "I had a glass of cabernet sauvignon at Thanksgiving dinner. And what is the date today, Toby?"

"It's September second," He says. "And it's almost seven o'clock."

"That means it's been almost _ten months_ ," Spencer shakes her head. "Henry was worth it, don't get me wrong. But I am getting alcohol tonight."

"Was he worth it?" Toby teases. "He won't be eating for the next two days while you wait for the alcohol to leave your system."

"Um, no, try two _hours_. It doesn't take that long to filter through breast milk," She corrects him. "And I thought ahead and prepared and already pumped plenty to tide him over until tomorrow evening. I'm good."

Honestly, he isn't surprised. She's been the most well prepared, thought-of-everything, on-top-of-her-shit mother he's ever seen. It's definitely come in handy in the weeks following Henry's birth. After the initial high of creating new life had worn off and her hormones had regulated and life had gone back to normal, the newly-turned family of five had had to adjust to their new hectic life and the schedule and routine that had been altered by adding an infant to it. Grace had been getting ready to begin third grade and Lilly was just getting used to not being the baby of the family anymore and, of course, they had been attempting to sleep train little Henry. They were exhausted and overworked and emotions were suddenly running very high again and one night, Spencer had decided that they really, really needed a break. He'd agreed on the spot. Thus, tonight is their very first date night in far too long and, really, they're already starting to feel better having escaped from their hectic household.

Spencer's now poring over the drink menu with wide eyes. "I've missed wine _so_ much, but I might just get a cocktail. There are so many fun ones in here."

"You sure you don't want to just start with body shots?" Toby teases. "I'll let you go first!"

"Yeah, I'm not ready to _do shots_ ," She replies, scandalized. "I haven't had alcohol in ten months, Toby. One sip of tequila and I'm dead."

He laughs and begins to wonder why they hadn't gotten away sooner. He loves his children, each one of them, to death and he'd do just about anything for them; he'd lay down his life. But he feels just as strongly for their mother; their relationship is one of the things he covets most in this world, it's the most important, and in order to keep it just as great as it's always been, they need their time together, too. He reaches across the table once they've placed their orders and threads his fingers through hers, saying, "I'm really glad we did this."

"Me too. I missed you," She admits and then shakes her head, as if somewhat embarrassed by her recent confession. "I know that sounds stupid because we live together and I literally see you everyday and we sleep in the same bed and parent the same children but…"

"No, I get it," He nods and she smiles. "We haven't had time to be _us_ lately. Since Henry was born, we've been Mommy and Daddy, not Spencer and Toby. Which I love, don't get me wrong."

"No, I love it too. I love them _so_ much and spending time with them is all I want to do. It's super important to me," She says, expressing his feelings as well as her own in the way she's always been a pro at doing. "But… Spending time together is important, too. We need couple time."

"That we do," He nods. "And so I think… Let's not talk about the kids tonight. Let's take some time to _be_ Spencer and Toby again. Because being a better, communicating, understanding couple will help us as parents, in the long run."

"Well said," She grins. "And I agree."

When their beverages arrive, Toby's is in the form of a glass of red wine and Spencer's is a fruity cocktail with at least three different types of alcohol blended in. It's blue in color and comes with a glow cube that changes from red to green to purple. Her eyes are wide as she remarks, "My drink is literally glowing. I feel like a newly-turned twenty-one-year-old right now."

"If you drink it down, do you get to keep the glass?" He jokes and then falters a bit when she takes out her cell phone and snaps a picture. "Are you Instagramming this?"

"Of course," She replies automatically. "If I don't document our date night on social media, did it ever actually happen?"

"Fair enough," He concedes and patiently waits for her to finish before raising his glass to toast with hers. "Here's to a night out without the munchkins."

"And to, hopefully, many more in the future," She agrees, clinking their glasses together, and they take identical sips. She grimaces, swallows, and says, "That is _strong_."

"Is it? Or are you just a lightweight now?" He teases and she hands the drink to him for a taste. He swallows, contemplates it a bit, and then says, "It's… different."

"It's good. It's super sweet. It's just strong."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know. Rum, blue curaçao, more rum," She shrugs and drinks a bit more. "Or something."

"Okay. I'm driving home."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not _that_ bad."

"Yeah, but we have three children that I'm not willing to orphan waiting for us at home."

"Dinner will soak it up," She waves this off and then takes a moment to glance around the restaurant, commenting, "It's honestly _so_ nice to get out of the house. I feel almost like I did back in school, when I locked myself in my dorm or my apartment to study for finals and I never saw the sunlight. That's how it feels now, with Henry. Like I love him to death and I love spending every waking second watching him grow. I really do. But at the same time… Walking around the neighborhood or running to pick Lilly up from daycare doesn't really count as leaving the house."

"That's true," Toby says. "I'm sorry. I should've been more proactive about this. We can start going places. That new ice cream parlor opened down by Rachel's and it's still hot as blazes even though it's almost fall. Or we could see a movie or play mini golf or something."

"Oh, mini golf would be fun," Spencer agrees. "That one on Route 9 is themed like a pirate's voyage and it has the ship and the cannons and all that. I think the girls would really enjoy that."

"Yeah," Toby says. "And as soon as Grace starts school next week, you'll have even more reasons to get out of the house. Open house, field trips, PTA meetings. Not to mention running her to her eight thousand activities."

"I'm actually dreading school starting, honestly," She admits. "Grace is _so_ excited because she loves school and learning and she misses her friends, but… I'll miss her. I like having her home with me."

"She likes _being_ home with you," Toby assures her. "But you go back to work in three weeks, anyway. You can stick it out and you'll have plenty to do, then."

"Ugh, I don't think I'm ready," She shakes her head. "I miss my patients desperately but can I really leave my baby boy at a _daycare_?"

"You leave your baby girl there."

Spencer bites her lip, accepting the truth, and then smiles wryly. "Toby. Do you know what we're doing right now?"

"The exact opposite of what we agreed on at the start of this date?" Toby chuckles. "Talking about the kids?"

"We haven't even gotten our _food_ yet and we already can't stop talking about them," She laughs. "Look at this! I've had maybe three sips of my drink. Your wine's half gone. What is the matter with us?"

"I don't know," He shakes his head. "What did we talk about before we had kids?"

She thinks a moment before replying with, "What was life _like_ before we had kids?"

"Spencer," Toby grins. "That's a question we may never know the answer to."

"Eh," Spencer shrugs. "I'm okay with that."

He nods his agreement; so is he. For they had jumped, headfirst, into this wonderful albeit crazy life together and they're never looking back.

* * *

Spencer lives for weekends like these.

She's been a firm believer since the moment she became a mother that hands-on life experiences mold a childhood far better than a technological device or a television program ever could and therefore, she's striven, ever since then, to provide her children with every learning opportunity they could get their hands on. She wants her children to grow up with memories of family time, of bonding over mutual intrigue and interests, and not of staring aimlessly at a screen with a hazy glow of false light in order to be entertained. Luckily for her, this is something that Toby had agreed with her upon. She knows his childhood- the early times, when his mother was still around- had been light years better than her own; that his mother had engaged her son in actual conversations and had provided him with the love and affection he'd needed and supported him in becoming the person he truly was. It still awes her to this day; her parents had done quite the opposite. But, to be honest, she and Toby hadn't ever actually used any of the same parenting techniques that _theirs_ had used and they weren't going to start now.

Grace has Monday off of school for superintendent's day and so they decide to take a long weekend road trip to Mystic, Connecticut. Their ten-year-old's thirst for knowledge cannot be quenched and she is therefore _extremely_ excited about the prospect of visiting not one, but _two_ museums, an aquarium and a planetarium. She does what she can to explain the trip to her preschool-aged sister and toddler brother, and she excites Lilly very much and Henry cheers along with his sisters without really understanding what's going on. So, they pack the car, pick Grace up from school on Friday afternoon and make the long journey out to Connecticut, stopping for dinner right outside their hotel and checking into a beautiful room that overlooks the ocean. Though both their parents are exhausted merely from the journey, it is another chore to get their wild ones to sleep, for they are just far too excited for the weekend's activities ahead.

Saturday brings room service breakfast in bed, a treat they've never been allowed at home (Spencer knows this is her fault, mainly; she's much too much of a neat freak to have food anywhere but the kitchen). When they've left the room, they head to the coast for a boat tour and whale watching, spotting three just miles away from the boat and one on the other side, coming up for air. After a quick lunch, Henry sleeps through the Sailing Hall of Fame in his stroller and Grace reads every single plaque aloud. They visit the adjacent Museum of America and the Sea and realize there is far more history involving maritime activities than they'd ever expected. They eat dinner at a cute little seafood restaurant at Mystic Seaport and then head back to the hotel for a little pool time before bed. Sunday finds them at the planetarium and, having just finished fourth grade and a huge project on NASA for the science fair, Grace is already nodding along with facts she'd already known. Lilly is wide-eyed beneath the projection of thirty million stars and when lights come on and the presentation ends, Henry cries. After a quick lunch, they decide to spend the rest of the day at the beach, where they chase the waves, collect seashells and bury Toby up to his neck in sand. And on Monday, their final stop is the Mystic Aquarium, where all three children race from exhibit to exhibit, watching tropical fish swim about in schools and baby belugas dive graciously in and out of the water and sea lions bark their hellos and goodbyes. They're offered the opportunity to feed a handful of penguins, which everyone enjoys, and then visit the animal rescue clinic, which everyone does not. It's a long weekend jam packed with activities that leave their heads spinning and the excitement and wonder in their eyes lets their parents know it was all worth it.

They leave the aquarium and head home. By the time they pull on the interstate, there is silence in the backseat.

"All three of those kids are passed out," Toby chuckles, glancing over his shoulder from the passenger seat. "I didn't know _that_ was all we had to do to wear them out."

"Hey, we did _a lot_ in three days," Spencer comments, switching lanes and heading back towards Pennsylvania. "And we made it out with our sanity intact and with only two meltdowns under our belts. One because of ice cream-"

"Total misunderstanding," Toby adds. "And he got over it, eventually."

"And one because no one was really ready to see the inside of sea turtle," Spencer says, grimacing. "Visiting the animal rescue clinic wasn't the _best_ idea."

"Oh my god, poor Grace. I thought she was going to be sick," Toby shakes his head. "She got _so_ pale. And Lilly! Bless her heart; crying and asking if he was going to be okay."

"The only one who didn't really freak out at that was Hen," Spencer says. "But I'm not entirely sure he knew what was going on."

"Benefits of being two, I guess."

Spencer again glances back at her three sleeping beauties in the backseat and a warm, nostalgic feeling comes over her. Each one of her wonderful, beautiful children is the reason she does what she does each and every day. Toby seems to sense her line of thinking, for he says, "Lilly, when we were leaving the planetarium yesterday, grabbed my hand and said, 'That was so fun. Thank you for taking us here, Daddy'."

"Grace said the same this morning," Spencer smiles warmly. "She goes, 'First the boats and then the beach and now the aquarium? This is the best weekend _ever_.' So, it's safe to say we're pretty much nailing this."

He chuckles. "Pretty safe bet."

She yawns after that, but she wills herself to get it together; they've still got hours, yet. Toby asks, "You want to switch? I can drive. You can nap."

"No, I've got this," Spencer shakes her head. "You drove us here. I'll drive back."

"Still," Toby shrugs and yawns, too. "You've got to be just as tired as they are."

"So do you," She points out. "Just talk to me. Keep me company. Keep me _awake_."

And that's exactly what he does. They do end up back home hours later, safe and sound, and tuck their children into their own beds as each one of them expresses their joy from their busy weekend getaway. And the joy Spencer feels is twofold; she does this for them, for their memories, for their experiences, for their own learning purposes, and it always yields incredible results.

But she does this for her and Toby, too. After all, happy parents equal happy children and happy children equal happy parents. And on and on.

* * *

"Okay, we have an hour before we have to pick up Grace from drama club and Emily's pretty cool, but I don't think she's going to keep Lilly and Henry forever."

Toby smirks and says, "It's fine. We're just getting milk."

"And eggs," Spencer adds. "This one has grocery, right?"

The sliding doors open and air conditioning blasts from the inside. They grab a basket and Toby says, "It is a Super Target, so I would assume so."

"Oh, it's laid out _super_ weird," Spencer says and he chuckles. "This is not my usual stomping ground. I feel like a fish out of water."

"You are the epitome of dramatic," He says. "No wonder Grace is the way she is."

"Okay, sorry, but this is _not_ my Target and that should be where the electronics and books and magazines are but instead it's the outdoor equipment, sports gear and patio furniture?"

"Oh, can we look at that, actually?" Toby decides. "Ours have seen better days."

"Sure," She agrees and they amble towards the wicker and hammocks. "You know, we should make Caleb pay us for the replacements since he dropped a flaming hot dog onto one of our patio chairs."

Toby laughs. "That was, without a doubt, the craziest Fourth of July _ever_. I seriously thought we were going to have to take someone to the hospital."

"Yeah between Caleb's second-degree burns and Henry's almost broken arm, I lost about seven years off of my life that night," Spencer chuckles. "Although, the chair with the giant charred hole is a nice talking point at parties."

"No it isn't," He laughs. "The people who come to our parties are the same people who were at that barbeque and know the story!"

"Fair point," She grins and points out a beautiful set towards the middle. "How about that one? I really like the glass table."

"Glass seems like a bad idea to me," Toby disagrees. "I'm just seeing it breaking and someone needing stitches."

"Okay, not every backyard barbeque is going to be like last Fourth of July, though," Spencer counters. "You don't have to expect disaster anymore. Thankfully, we left that life behind in Rosewood."

"That's true," He says and steps closer to the next set. "What about this one?"

"White?" Spencer wrinkles her nose in disgust. "For an _outdoor_ dining set?"

"What's wrong with white?"

"Nothing," Spencer says. "Except we live in the northeast and therefore it isn't going to stay white for very long. Rain, snow, hail, mud… You name it."

"You're so picky," He shakes his head. "What about this set? It's beautiful."

"I'm not a big wicker fan," She says. "Besides we'll have to take the cushions in and out every time we want to use it, again because of the weather."

"Okay, so which set do you like?"

Spencer considers them all before deciding, "Honestly? None of them."

"But what are you looking for?"

"Something like the set we have now," Spencer shrugs. "I like the reinforced iron so that it doesn't rust and our chairs are _so_ comfortable and weather-resistant. We need a neutral color, too; not a huge fan of this lime green or that God-awful fire-engine red."

"You know what? This is actually pretty pointless," Toby then says. "Because why would I pay up to three thousand dollars for a set like this when I can just as easily buy the supplies and make one of my own?"

"You _are_ quite talented in that area," Spencer grins. "And good with your hands."

"Okay, that settles it." Toby decides. "I'll make that my new summer project."

"Okay good," She says brightly. "Milk and eggs?"

"Milk and eggs," He nods and they're on the move again.

However, they stop again momentarily so Spencer can comment on how out of sorts the store seems. "Seriously? The baby supplies are across from the DVDs and books? Who the hell designed this place?"

"Okay, so the layout is a little strange, but it's still Target," Toby says. "Maybe it's a new one and they didn't have time to set up before they opened."

"That seems very unorganized of them," She shakes her head disapprovingly before squealing with delight. "Oh my god! Under $5 deals!"

She begins to look through the movies on sale before finding a peculiar theme. " _Brokeback Mountain_ , _Donnie Darko_ , _Love and Other Drugs_ , _The Day After Tomorrow_ … What does Target have against Jake Gyllenhaal?"

"Oh no," Toby rolls his eyes. "Not him again."

"There are, like, fifteen movies here and ten of them have Jake in them," Spencer comments. "Are they not selling? Are people not buying his movies?"

"No, they're not," Toby says. "Because these movies are old as shit."

She shoots him a look, not amused. "Leave Jake alone."

"You and Jake Gyllenhall. I can't believe this is still a thing."

"I'm in love with him."

"Ouch," He feigns heartache, a hand over his heart. "Just let me know when to move out."

She sets the movies down and shoves his shoulder playfully. "Stop it."

"Is it the beard? I can grow a beard."

"Why did we come in here, again?" Spencer asks as they leave the media behind and Toby has to wrack his brain a moment before coming up with the answer.

"We're out of milk," He replies. "I don't remember what else."

As they come to the part of the store with the accessories, Toby says, "Oh, I need a new pair of sunglasses. Mine broke on the job the other day and I had to staple them together."

"Oh my god," Spencer laughs. "That's incredible. That's worse than tape, Harry Potter."

"Ha ha," He deadpans, bumping her hip with his. "Also Lilly has worn out yet another sketchbook in art class, so if you want to go grab her one, I'll pick out a pair and meet you in the grocery section?"

She nods her agreement and heads off in search of a brand new sketchbook for her budding artist. Once she's acquired a bound book of pristine paper, she wanders down the aisle towards the grocery items and instead finds herself lost in the bedding aisle, comparing sheets and their thread counts. She and Toby have been sleeping on the same sheets since they'd first moved in together back when they were budding newlyweds and, tempted, Spencer begins to consider parting ways and buying new bedding altogether. He texts her moments later that he found a pair of glasses he likes and she replies with a text detailing her exact location; he pokes fun at her for getting distracted and she rolls her eyes while thoroughly enjoying the jest. There's a sheet set in a deep, royal blue that she has her eyes on- they're _so freaking soft_ \- and she's imagining curling up with Toby upon them when he finds her moments later.

"We're getting new bedding, now?"

"I think it's time," Spencer tells him and thrusts the sheet set in his direction. "Feel how soft they are."

He does and nods his agreement. "That's awesome. Ours are so ratty in comparison."

She chuckles and places them in the basket as they stroll towards the checkout counter. "Let me see your new shades."

He unfolds the arms and places the glasses right on the bridge of his nose, asking, "Well?"

"Oh my god. You look like James Bond."

"Better than Jake Gyllenhaal?"

"Forget Jake Gyllenhaal."

They both share a moment of laughter and bag their purchases at the self-checkout before heading to their car and driving towards the schools, in search of their eldest daughter. They're just pulling up to the front when Spencer suddenly says, "We didn't buy milk or eggs."

Toby sighs. "Damn it, Target. Sucked us in again."

Spencer's laughter fills the entire car.

* * *

She exhales unhappily as she flops backwards against the couch, her hands coming over her face, in order to shut out the world. In her head, she repeats it like a mantra- _it's not like before. It won't ever be like before_.

Truthfully, she doesn't even remember what had started this fight in the first place, but as it always does with them, one thing had led to another and it had escalated very, very quickly. Perhaps it was a harmless comment or a miscommunication or something that had gotten blown way out of proportion; honestly, Spencer can't remember now. It had started this morning, they'd stewed over it all day in their respective work environments, and then, upon the sight of each other back at home, like a pressure cooker, they'd exploded. They'd always made a point not to argue in front of their children and they'd almost succeeded, this time, if it hadn't been for Henry's question about his math homework. He'd entered the living room, noted the tears in his mother's eyes and the anger in his father's, and raced up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

And that was what had ended it. Toby had banished himself to the garage and Spencer had collapsed in defeat upon the couch.

But it's not like before and Spencer's glad it isn't. She's not sure she could handle that, now. She could barely handle it then.

Before, they argued all the time. She was keeping things from him, he was keeping things from her, and they were keeping things from each other. He would beg her not to get herself into trouble and she would promise him she could handle herself, fall into danger, and nearly lose her life. And this happened over and over again and every time, she found herself _hating_ that she did this to him and simultaneously being unable to stop it. It became the fuel for argument after argument and then he would take matters into his own hands and go _way too far_ in an attempt to protect her because she refused to protect herself. And she would argue with him and he'd argue with her and they would argue with each other. And when she finally made him see the error in his ways, he would be so disappointed in himself for hurting her, assume she wanted nothing to do with him, and flee.

And that gutted Spencer more than any argument ever could.

Watching him leave her, not knowing if he would come back, was as much a part of her adolescence as the torture and the bullying and –A. She always panicked that she'd been too much of a burden for him and she worried and sought after him and called endlessly to nothing but voicemail. And he would return, always, whenever she did that, because somehow he'd gotten it into his head that she didn't want to see him anymore, while ironically she was sitting at home thinking the very same thing about him. But she knows what it's like to think he's never coming back and she doesn't allow herself to go _there_ , to that clearing in the woods, any longer, because it had been her tipping point years and years ago and who's to say it couldn't be again? It's why, when Grace had been small and he'd left after an argument, Spencer had all but given him an ultimatum; with children, with a _family_ , he could not leave anymore. And so, he didn't. And it's not like before.

She hears the door to the garage open and soft footsteps on the hardwood floors as he makes his way to her. Likely, he'd been tooling around with the truck he's determined to fix and residual anger begins to build within her, but she waits for it to pass. Now is not the time and they're done. Pulling her hands off of her face, Spencer sits up, glances in his direction, and hopes he hasn't come back to pick up where they left off. Something about his vanquished body language tells her he hasn't. Instead, he steps into the living room, takes one look at her, and his entire body sags with defeat. He inhales a deep breath and so does she, standing up so she can look him in the eye, neither ever really wanting to be the first to apologize.

"Spencer-"

She launches herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his collarbone. She can tell he isn't quite expecting this by the way he stumbles backwards and grips onto her like his life depends upon it. Closing her eyes in relief, she murmurs, "I don't want to fight anymore."

"Neither do I," He agrees and kisses her temple. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

He pulls back and kisses her lips next and for some reason, this makes her want to cry. Toby must sense this, because he then asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," She insists, shaking her head, but he's just as stubborn as she is.

"Something," Toby says. "I don't want to start another argument but I also don't want you to be upset."

"That's just it," She frowns. "I just… I _hate_ arguing with you."

"Well, no one likes it," He shrugs. "But it's a healthy part of a relationship, right?"

"I guess," She sighs. "I just wish it wasn't."

"Yeah. I mean, I'd love for us to be laughing and making out and pleasuring one another all the time," Toby says and she laughs, which makes him grin; she suspects this had been his plan all along. "But that isn't realistic and you know it."

"I know," She nods stubbornly. "I think we scared the shit out of Henry."

"Well yeah, he's never seen us fight before," Toby sighs. "Remember when Grace caught us way back when?"

"Yeah, after you left she asked if you were going to come back," Spencer says. "And if we were going to break up."

"Ugh," Toby groans and then pulls away from her, calling towards the staircase, " _Henry!_ "

"What are you doing?"

"We have to fix this," He says. "It's actually probably a good thing he saw us fight because now he knows we're not perfect."

"I'm not sure he ever thought we were perfect."

Their son comes slinking down the stairs a moment later, cautious, and his parents greet him with arms wide open and smiles that are much too bright. "Yeah?"

"Hi bud," Toby says. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He shrugs. "I'm fine. Are _you_ guys okay?"

"Yes Hen," Spencer smiles. "Dad and I just had a disagreement, that's all."

"You looked _really_ mad," Henry says, still holding his math homework under his arm. "I didn't like it."

"I know. I didn't like it either," Toby shakes his head. "But here's the thing- moms and dads aren't always going to agree on everything. Sometimes they're going to fight because they both care _so_ much about what they think and they want the other person to understand too. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Henry nods. "It's like when I want to play one game with Lilly but she wants to play a different one. Right?"

"Right," Spencer agrees. "That's going to cause a fight too, because you both disagree. But you still love Lilly when that happens, right?"

"Yeah."

"Exactly," Toby concludes. "Mom and I will always love each other no matter how many times we might disagree on something."

"And we'll always love you, too." Spencer grins. "So let's see that math homework."

They call a truce over their son's long division because they're much too tired to fight any longer and, truthfully, they can think of many things that are more important.

* * *

"I think he's ready. I think he's _more_ than ready."

Toby nods his agreement. "All signs are pointing to yes."

Their two-year-old, however, has a different idea. They'd been talking up the impending arrival of his potty training for a week now, and this evening they'd brought in the box from the garage with the old plastic training potty they'd used for both their girls. Grace and Lilly had remained long after dinner to cheer him on, to stay for the unboxing of the brightly colored potty, and had made a big deal about it when Henry first sat down, clapping and each taking a turn to kiss and encourage him. And then, of course, nothing happened; the girls had grown bored and retreated upstairs and now, only his parents remain. Henry is staring back at them, as if waiting just as impatiently as they are, and he's fidgeting but not moving from the seat. It's not as if they expected him to train overnight, or anything. But they were expecting _something_ to happen.

Spencer takes a seat on the kitchen floor in front of her son, crossing her legs, and Toby sits down beside her. "Well… This could take a while."

"Yeah," He agrees. "Not exactly the best idea to be doing this in the kitchen, is it?"

"No, but he was excited," She says. "Silly of me to think he'd just… _go_."

"Why is that silly? Both girls did," Toby points out. "Grace was _so_ easy and then with Lilly, I mean, she pretty much trained herself."

"Boys are more difficult; or, so all the books say," Spencer sighs. "I was hoping there wasn't any truth to the rumor."

"Come on, you _knew_ there was always truth to the rumor," Toby says. "He's been the most stubborn of all of them. He's such a trouble maker."

"Always has been," Spencer chuckles. "He's keeping us on our toes, that's for sure."

Henry laughs too, as if he's in on the secret, as if he's saying, _yeah, you ain't seen nothing yet!_ Toby ruffles his mop of curls before saying, "Remember when he was born?"

"How could I forget?" Spencer reminisces. "I almost gave birth in the car. I actually, _legitimately_ thought he was going to be born in the front seat of your vehicle."

"I was doing, like, twenty over the speed limit trying to get to the hospital on time," Toby says. "I almost had a heart attack. My blood pressure must've been through the roof. I was so freaked out."

"You know, the only birth you were calm for was Lilly's," Spencer teases. "For being the relaxed one, you _sure_ weren't, in these cases."

"Hey, for one, I thought I was going to miss Grace's because I was _hours_ away," Toby says. "And for Hen, I hadn't ever delivered a baby before and I wasn't really planning on ever doing so."

She grins. "You could've done it."

"Doubtful," He disagrees. "Really though, all three of our kids came into this world in a hectic, dramatic affair. Grace during a horrible snowstorm when I was hours away, Lilly six weeks early and needing medical assistance at birth and Henry, almost in the car. What are these kids trying to do to us? Send us to an early grave?"

Spencer laughs. "When you put it that way, it certainly looks like it. But I mean, we should've expected it. They're _our_ kids. We've never done anything conventionally, so why would they?"

"Ah, fair enough," Toby agrees. "Who would've thought that a lifetime of running for our lives, getting chased by a serial stalker and escaping death over and over would eventually lead to this? A life of bliss?"

" _You_ would've thought," Spencer tells him. "It's what you used to tell me all the time, remember? That I just had to hold on? That it would get better?"

"And didn't it?"

"Yes. Of course it did."

"But you never believed me."

"Relying on hope wasn't my strong suit."

"Spence, it still isn't."

She swats at him. "Okay, okay. But you've always been the positive thinker, not me. I mean, I don't know how I would've _ever_ gotten through what you went through, but you did. And it's because you always believed things would get better."

"Spencer, I don't know how I would've gotten through what _you_ went through, honestly," He shakes his head. "You're the strong one, here. You have to see that."

"You got me through all of that," Spencer insists. "You did. So maybe… Maybe we're just equally strong."

"Maybe we are," He agrees. "And maybe we became stronger by being together."

"Momma!" Henry squeals and Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah? Did you go?"

"No," He shakes his head and squirms a bit more. "No go, Momma. No go!"

"This is going to be a great story to tell him when he's older," Toby grins. "He'll be standing at his college graduation, making some grand speech, and when he's finished, when we're able to hug him, we can tell him all about the time he refused to go potty at eight o'clock at night in the middle of the kitchen floor."

Spencer laughs. "Or how he and Lilly used to bathe together."

"Or any of the other embarrassing tales of his childhood," Toby says. "I'm sure we'll accumulate a lot of them."

"God, someday he's going to be a little person," Spencer says. "A real person who can use the bathroom and write an essay and drive a car. I can't fathom that."

"He's already a real person, Spence," Toby chuckles. "He was very real when he came out of you."

She shakes her head, grinning. "You know what I mean! He's going to be an adult someday; they all are. And we'll be so old!"

"Ew, I don't want to think that far ahead."

"Can you imagine it?" She asks anyway. "Grace and Lilly and Henry going to college? Graduating and moving out? Getting their own apartments and homes and full-time jobs?"

"What are we going to do with our lives when they're gone?" Toby wonders. "What did we do before?"

"And then they'll meet the loves of their lives," Spencer continues to dream. "And they'll get married and have babies of their own. And they'll come visit all the time and when they're not here, we'll be there, because we're going to spoil those grandkids _so_ much."

"We'll feed them lots of sugar and take them to amusement parks and the zoo to rile them up before sending them home," He grins, playing along. "And we'll be far better grandparents than any of _their_ grandparents are."

"We're already better parents than ours are, so…" Spencer trails off, shrugging. "That won't be difficult."

Toby smiles wistfully, enjoying the game. "And we'll travel the world like we always wanted. And grow old together like we always planned."

Spencer smiles, too, in full accord. "It's going to be quite the life."

"Momma!"

This startles them out of their reverie and they realize, instantly, that Henry is no longer sitting in front of them on the training potty. They whirl around and find he's standing just behind them, his bottom half completely bare, in a pool of his own urine. Spencer's eyes widen, horrified, and she says, "Oh Henry, no!"

"Yes, it is going to be _quite_ the life," Toby tells her with a grin. "As long as we make it through this one, first."


	19. it's the holiday season

**Hello friends! How about a little Thanksgiving and Christmas in August? :P That's what I've got for you today. I'm sorry for the out-of-place season but I'm boiling down here in the Florida heat and humidity and dreaming of fall and cooler weather. Of course, cooler weather for Florida still means like 80 degrees, but it's 100 now, so that twenty degree absence makes a difference, believe me! I'm still so, so grateful and overwhelmed by your fantastic response on the last chapter. I cannot even fathom how or why you're still with me, but I love it just the same. Thank you so, so much for your kind words and your support. I love you all! :D**

 **Today's chapter comes from Andy Williams' "Happy Holidays." Yay Christmas in the summer! :P**

* * *

it's the holiday season

It doesn't happen very often; in fact, there had to be a strange combination of luck and kismet for this morning to come together, to be solely theirs, and hey, she isn't complaining. When their anniversary falls on a Saturday, as it does this year, and they're able to find alternate lodging for the children for the weekend, as they had this year, it's something short of a miracle. Caleb and Hanna had taken in their three munchkins the night prior, which left Spencer and Toby with a wonderful and glorious empty house, so they'd used it to their full advantage. Spencer awakens this morning, the morning of their twentieth anniversary of being a couple, with a full heart and a smile on her face. She's thoroughly and utterly blessed; honestly, she wishes she could go back and find that anxiety-ridden, pill-popping, stressed out teenager she once was and tell her that one day, it's all going to be okay. Honestly, there isn't anything she'd change about her life, now.

Until her eyes flutter open and take in the sight of snowflakes falling outside their bedroom window.

It's too early in the year for this and she frowns. It's been November for what? Six days? It's still technically fall; if winter could stay away as long as possible, that would be great, in her opinion. She shakes her head and decides not to be bothered; if anything, she knows her kids will have the time of their lives sledding later today on the killer hill in Caleb and Hanna's backyard. Glancing at the clock, she notes it's just after eight and she's utterly shocked at this, because she never sleeps in this late, not even on weekends. Perhaps they'd celebrated a bit _too_ hard the evening prior. She grins at the memory and twenty years is almost hard to believe. At times, she feels those twenty years, right down to the second, and at others, she feels like they're still seventeen again, running for their lives and vowing to protect one another with every last ounce of their teenage energies. She can't even fathom all that's happened in twenty years or the fourteen that they've been married- countless moves, European adventures and three beautiful children- and she suddenly has the overwhelming urge to be close to him, which is entirely ironic considering his body is still coiled around hers, as is their customary sleeping position.

She turns to face him and a grin, warm and slow, spreads across her lips upon the sight of him. Is it strange that she's nearing forty, that they've been together since their adolescence, that they've spent two decades in each other's arms, and she still feels butterflies, feels her heart skip a beat, each time she lays eyes on him? He's dead to the world, as he often is when he's asleep; Spencer believes Toby could sleep through a tornado and not even flinch. She inches closer to him and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't move a muscle. She presses her body against his, kissing his chest and neck. Still nothing. Giving it her all, Spencer connects their lips next and after mere seconds, she feels him kiss back and she grins. But when she opens her eyes, his are still annoyingly shut. Now she's almost sure he's doing this to piss her off. It's working.

Leaning away from him, she says, "Well, happy anniversary to you, too."

Eyes still shut, Toby groans, "Five more minutes, please."

"You sound like the kids," Spencer smirks in amusement. "I don't let them get away with it, either."

"Look, just because you and Lilly like to wake up at the crack of dawn-"

"It's eight-fifteen."

"-the crack of eight-fifteen, doesn't mean the rest of us do," Toby tells her and pulls her body into his once more. "Sleep is good. Sleep is fun. Sleep helps us not be horrible monsters during the day."

"That's what I have coffee for."

"Which, ironically, you wouldn't need, if you got more sleep."

She rolls her eyes, but that grin is still splitting her face when she says, "You're such a pain in the ass. You know that, right?"

"Ah, yes," He says, his eyes locking with hers. "But a pain in the ass you've been stuck with for twenty years today. You don't seem like you're in a hurry to get rid of me."

"Uh, yeah, you're not going anywhere," Spencer tells him. "Keep me warm; it's snowing outside."

"Happy anniversary to you, too," Toby teases and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. "Besides, didn't I tell you we're spending the entire day in bed?"

"Yes, but I didn't think we'd be _sleeping_ ," Spencer says and he grins at the implication. "When's the next time we're going to get the house all to ourselves?"

"Certainly not any time soon," Toby concurs. "Thanksgiving's coming up, and then Christmas and New Year's…"

"All of the holiday craziness, first, and then Grace's birthday," Spencer continues. "If we're lucky, we can get my parents to take the kids for Valentine's Day. But it might be Melissa's year."

Toby smirks. "Right, because they can only be grandparents to one kid at a time."

She shoots him a look. "You know what I mean."

"I do," He says. "And I guess I shouldn't bash them too much. They're better than mine."

"Your stepmother still thinks Lilly's name is Lindsey."

"I've corrected her a _thousand_ times."

"Let's face it," Spencer then says. "Our families both kind of suck. We should have our meals with our friends instead."

"Maybe next year," Toby shrugs. "The kids would definitely like that."

" _I_ would definitely like that," Spencer says. "I mean, honestly. Less drama, for one. All our friends know ours kids' names. And they know what our son is and isn't allergic to."

"You're still on that, huh?" Toby chuckles. "To be fair, he isn't allergic to that many things-"

"No, he's not!" Spencer exclaims. "Which is why it shouldn't have been that difficult for my father to remember!"

"He bounced right back after a little Benadryl."

"His tongue swelled twice its normal size! I thought he was going to choke to death!"

"He thought that was _hilarious_."

"He would," Spencer sighs. "I, however, was not as pleased to spend half of Christmas in the ER."

"Okay, so they're not experts on our kids like we are," Toby says. "But can you blame them? They don't see them very often."

"Well they could all make a better effort to come and visit."

"Yeah," Toby agrees and adds, "But so could we."

Spencer heaves a sigh and tells him, begrudgingly, "I hate it when you're right."

"I know," Toby teases, kissing her again. "It really is such a burden for you."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Spencer decides, threading her fingers through his hair. "Can we stop?"

"Why did we even start?" Toby wonders, his hands traveling under her shirt. "It's our anniversary. Can we go back to celebrating and making out?"

She nods and his lips are on hers in an instant. It still starts a fire in her veins, even to this day, and she's heard about passion dying down over time, she's heard about couples losing their spark, she's heard about familial love taking place of passionate love, but she's never experienced any of this, because she and Toby are still just as hot for each other as they have been since day one. Instead of the flame extinguishing on their passionate love and companionate one sparking in its place, they'd somehow managed to kindle two flames at once, and sometimes one ignites faster than the other, and sometimes the flames dance and intermingle, and sometimes they burn, but neither of them ever extinguish. And she's grateful, really she is, because she needs both types to keep her going. It runs through her veins, pumps her heart, and fuels her brain, everlasting.

Her hands are navigating the contours of his chest and he's just found the waistband of her lounge pants when she pulls back a bit to ask, "So when your father says he doesn't want me to bring anything, does he _actually_ mean it? Or is it like a challenge?"

Toby sighs and says, "Congratulations. You've discovered it."

"Discovered what?"

"The best way to kill the mood," Toby replies, rolling off of her and onto his back. "Bringing up my father while we're on the verge of sex? Nicely done."

"I'm sorry," She pleads. "He was just on my mind."

"Not making it any better."

She shoots him a look. "You know what I mean. Thanksgiving is in three weeks. You know that's my stress period."

"Three weeks before and up to two weeks after," He recites perfectly. "You know, sometimes I think I know you _too_ well."

She grins but then says, "It's a challenge, isn't it? No one hosts a big dinner for multiple friends and relatives and tells someone _not_ to bring something."

"He isn't challenging you," Toby tells her. "You can relax. And it's not a _big_ dinner; it's my parents, probably Jenna if they can wrangle her up here, and maybe some aunts and cousins we see literally once a year. It's not a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal, though," Spencer disagrees. "Because if we show up empty-handed, you know what they'll say?"

"Probably nothing. They're not big on confrontation."

"They'll say, 'Oh, dinner for fifteen people and you couldn't have contributed at least some crescent rolls?'" Spencer mimics, her voice high-pitched and snotty in an impeccable imitation of Toby's stepmother. "But do you know what they'll say if we show up with dessert or a side-dish?"

"Again, probably nothing. They're not big on gratitude, either."

"They'll say, 'Oh, I guess our third-class food isn't good enough for Spencer. What'd you bring? Champagne and caviar?'" She says, mimicking a deep, booming voice in an elaborate replication of Toby's father. "I can't win, regardless."

"No, no one can," Toby says. "Because we're going to my _parents'_. Need I remind you that it was your idea to accept their invitation in the first place?"

"You need not," She sighs. "But I only suggested it because _my_ parents are in Bora Bora and you and your Dad have been kind of, sort of getting along lately."

"That's a bit of a reach," Toby says. "But you can relax, honestly. We'll eat some turkey, we'll have a slice of pumpkin pie, nod politely at some terrible conversation and we'll be done."

"Aw," Spencer smiles slowly. "That's exactly what I told you we'd do when I convinced you to agree to this."

"I remember," Toby chuckles. "Which is why I'm bringing your words back to haunt you. It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal."

She sighs. "You're right."

"And if your stress period could take a mini vacation, that would be awesome," Toby then suggests. "Because once again, it's our anniversary, and for the love of God, I'd like to celebrate."

"I second that," Spencer yawns. "I'm glad we're staying in bed all day. All that conspiring has made me very tired."

Toby grins at her, his hands already back at her waist. "Who said anything about sleep?"

* * *

During commercial breaks for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, the annual viewing of said parade being a Cavanaugh family tradition, Spencer races back and forth from the kitchen to whip up something for their dinner later that evening, Toby chuckling from his spot on the couch. He's given up trying to reason with her that trying to please his family is a useless battle. Instead, he tries to diminish her stress with countless massages, hugs, kisses and gentle reminders that he doesn't give a shit what his family thinks; never has, mostly likely never will. She takes his words to heart and some of the tension in her shoulders is relieved, but she keeps cooking. He lets her go. It's best not to argue when she's got her mind on something; he'd learned that _years_ ago. Spencer does what Spencer wants and takes down anyone who tries to get in her way. Not that anyone could; like trying to please his family, it's a useless fight.

Following the conclusion of the parade, the family retreats up to their individual bedrooms to change out of their pajamas and into something both nice and with a resilient waistline, considering the feast they're about to consume. It's about an hour or so, maybe an hour and a half, to Rosewood, and when they pass that deep cerulean welcome sign, a pit of dread already begins to form in Toby's stomach. Glancing at Spencer, he can see it in her eyes; it doesn't matter how long they stay away and it doesn't matter how often or how little they visit. Returning to Rosewood always sends their nerves flying, despite their horrors having ended long ago. Soon enough, after passing familiar buildings and landmarks, they're pulling into the driveway belonging to Toby's childhood home.

As they're standing on the porch, Toby reaches out to ring the doorbell as Spencer, juggling a small platter, runs a hand over Henry's hair in an effort to smooth his unruly locks. "Now I want everyone on their best behavior, do you guys understand me?"

"Yes," Henry replies automatically and when Spencer licks her thumb and reaches for him a second time, he ducks out of reach and whines, "Mom!"

Toby chuckles just a bit. Sometimes their five-year-old is more of a teenager than their _actual_ teenager, Grace. She chimes in, asking, "Did you guys really grow up here?"

"Yes," Toby answers. "And so did you, for a couple years."

"Gross," She shakes her head. "This place is really depressing."

"Depressing?" Spencer probes, amused. "How?"

"I don't know, it just gives me the creeps," Grace tells them. "Everything looks perfect, but, like, _too_ perfect, you know? Like people are staring at you from across the street and murdering their neighbors left and right."

Toby shares a glance with his wife. _If only she knew_. Just then, the front door swings open to reveal Heather, Toby's stepmother, and all five members of his family paste on fake smiles. "Oh! Well you're running late, aren't you? We're nearly through the appetizer round."

"Well, we brought some reinforcements," Spencer supplies, handing over her platter. "Thank you for inviting us. We appreciate it."

"Oh, you shouldn't have, really," Heather tells her and peels back the foil, tilting her head and asking, "What is this?"

"It's cranberry and camembert," Spencer explains. "It goes really well with crackers. I've actually brought some, if you don't-"

"Camembert?" Heather says slowly, as if she's just learned to speak. "Is that a type of fish?"

"It's cheese," Spencer says and Toby's too paralyzed by what's happening to offer her an out. "It tastes sort of like-"

"Oh. I guess that's why I don't know it. It's a bit fancy for my taste." Heather says, replacing the foil. "But I'm not surprised you like it, Spencer."

She frowns and when her eyes meet Toby's, he hopes she can understand the deep sympathy he's conveying. He certainly gets the whole _I told you so!_ look she's giving him. He half nods towards their family SUV, suggesting wordlessly that they turn around and find somewhere else to spend the holiday, but she purses her lips and shakes her head. She's a trooper and he's always known that, right from the start. She'd easily throw herself back into the lion's den if it meant something was in it for him. Toby sighs and watches as Heather interacts with each of the children before turning and entering the house. He's not even sure what she's said, only that after Spencer follows Heather, and Grace and Henry dutifully follow their mother, Lilly hangs back just a bit, a tiny frown on her face.

Glancing at his seven-year-old, Toby asks, "Hey, sunshine. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Lilly says. "My name's _Lilly_."

Toby smiles the tiniest bit and then bends down, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I know, baby. Let's go inside."

It's delightfully warm inside and smells of fresh baking bread and roasting turkey, a scrumptious smell he never grows tired of. It's weird being back; they always begrudgingly end up at his parents' house for Thanksgiving, something that had started just after Henry was born, but it doesn't matter how many times he walks over the threshold of his childhood home, it still feels as haunted as it had when he'd lived here. He can still picture his mother at the piano in the living room, delicate fingers creating tunes with the greatest of ease as he sat still on the bench beside her, hoping to learn just by watching. He can still see the sunlight streaming through Jenna's open window, catching the dozens of snow globes and refracting light all across the room. And he's pretty sure, even after all these years, that he can still feel the paralyzing emptiness, the agonizing loneliness, that came with living here. He was invisible and, after a while, that was how he preferred it.

After some small talk with relatives he hadn't seen in years, they retreat to the dining room for the main course. Heather had painstakingly created seating cards for each member in attendance, and while most everyone had their full names in delicate calligraphy, Grace sits down to find her place has nothing but a simple G. "Wow, not cool. How come I'm just G?"

"Mine says H," Henry chimes in. "Maybe it's a kid thing."

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad's have their names on them," Grace points out. "I bet she doesn't even really know our names."

"I actually like this better," Lilly says. "At least she didn't write Lindsey."

"Give her a break," Spencer murmurs in an effort to keep her children's voices low. "Calligraphy's difficult and she had to fill out a lot of these. I bet she just got tired."

"Dad?" Grace then asks from across the table, bent over her plate in an effort to keep unwanted ears from listening. "What should we even call them?"

"We can't call them grandma and grandpa," Lilly agrees. "We already have those. That would get confusing."

"You know, I haven't given this a lot of thought," Toby tells them and it's true, really. He'd never expected his father would want to be a big part of his life. "Why don't you ask them what you should call them?"

Henry takes this as a challenge and the moment Heather returns with a bowl of pillowing mashed potatoes, he tugs on her sleeve and asks, "What should I call you?"

Heather beams down at the five-year-old and replies, "Oh, sweetheart, you can call me whatever you'd like. Just don't call me late for dinner, right? Good thing I've got the potatoes and I'm just going to help Daniel pull the turkey out of the oven and we'll be-"

"No, what should I _call_ you?" Henry again insists, short on patience as all children are. "Should I call you Grammy?"

"Well, if it didn't make sound about a hundred, I'd say yes," Heather says and places the potatoes down on the table, her hands immediately finding her hips instead.

"Well, I can't call you grandma. That's my Mommy's mommy," Henry explains. "Plus, you aren't really my grandma."

Spencer's eyes go wide. "Oh my God."

Heather purses her lips. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, you're not my Dad's real mom," Henry says matter-of-factly. "Her name was Marion and she died a long time ago."

Spencer's face is in her hands and honestly, Toby's too surprised to speak. Heather, however, wonders, "You know all about that, huh?"

"Uh huh," Henry nods and then points at Grace. "My sister Grace even has her name as a middle name. Isn't that cool?"

"That's something."

"So you're not even my real grandma-"

Toby finds his voice, finally. "Henry!"

"Henry," Grace adds. "Shut _up_!"

"Grace," Toby chastises and when he looks at Heather, her face is unreadable. "I'm so sorry."

She glances at him for a long, long time. Then, she turns, muttering, "I'll get the stuffing."

Lilly ponders a moment before suggesting, "Maybe we just won't call them anything."

"I don't think we'll have to," Grace giggles. "We're never getting invited back here again."

Henry shrugs at the looks his parents are giving him. "What? It was just a question!"

The rest of the table is shooting both Toby and Spencer incredibly judgmental looks, which really amuses Toby, because anyone who's had children knows they always say whatever the hell they want. Leaning a bit closer to his wife, he jokes, "Starting off with a bang."

Spencer nods, adding, "He has no filter."

"Of course he doesn't," Toby agrees. "He's five."

"Yeah and usually it's hilarious," Spencer sighs. "I should've known it would eventually get embarrassing."

Daniel enters the room in moments with a beautifully carved turkey, Heather right behind him with bowls of heaping mounds of stuffing and cranberry sauce. From there, plates get passed around and everyone fills them with each of the delectable treats available before them. And just when they're ready to dig in, Heather claps her hands excitedly and announces, "Daniel, it's your turn to say the blessing."

"Ah, that's right, that's right," He nods and reaches for the hands of the guests on either side of him, his eyes closing, his head bowed.

Never in Toby's _life_ has he ever seen his father say grace. He'd never been a religious man; in fact, Toby can remember being very young and being the only one to accompany his mother to church. His father never joined them. The person he is now, with Heather, is someone Toby doesn't even recognize. But even still, he slips his hand into Spencer's and Henry's and plays along. Daniel clears his throat and begins, "Lord, I would like to thank you for this bountiful blessing we are about to receive. Thank you for the clothes on our backs, the roof over our heads and the food on our plates. For the wonderful company, for good friends and good family, and for the many sanctions you have allowed us, we are thankful. Amen."

"Amen," Heather echoes and a chorus of dinner guests agrees.

He's pouring gravy over turkey and mashed potatoes when there's a knock on the front door. All dinner activity stills, as all the guests they'd been expecting are already here, and, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin, Daniel stands to investigate the mysterious visitor. All Toby hears is the front door open and his father exclaim, "My God! I don't believe it!"

" _Surprise!_ "

And then he knows. Reaching for his glass of wine, he catches Spencer's eye and knows she's caught the familiar voice, too. They can still hear Daniel, but a tight embrace muffles his voice. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"

"That wouldn't have been a surprise, Dad!"

 _Dad_. It still makes his skin crawl. Honestly, he has no idea what ever happened to her actual father. She and Heather have not once brought him up. But Toby's with Henry; hell will freeze over before he calls Heather 'mom'. In moments, they round the corner into the dining room and Daniel's got an arm around the shoulders of his stepdaughter, the two of them with giant grins on their faces, and he announces her presence to the room. Heather squeals and jumps up to embrace her daughter, and soon there's hugging and kissing and fanfare. Spencer, from beside her husband, scoffs audibly and her mood is immediately dampened. Annoyed, she asks, "They ever greet _you_ like that?"

Toby smirks. "Please."

But that honestly isn't what's getting him. In the five years since they had been coming to Thanksgiving dinner with the Cavanaughs, Jenna had always threatened her attendance, but had never followed through. He hasn't seen Jenna in _ages_ ; the last time had been in January, thirteen years ago, right after Grace was born. They'd invited his parents to visit their one and only grandchild, since they hadn't made time to see her when she was still in the hospital, and somehow Daniel and Heather got it into their heads that Jenna was invited too. Needless to say, she wasn't, and when she'd arrived, Toby had kept a tight hold on the baby and had refused all members of his party any physical contact with her. Daniel and Heather hadn't understood and that was okay; he'd never expect them to. But he saw the glint in Jenna's eye; she'd known and he couldn't do a damn thing about it, because he's a completely different person than he was when he was under her manipulative fingers, but he knows to this day that bringing up his torment would only cause havoc for _him_.

Heather bustles about pulling up two chairs at the end of the table for Jenna and the current flame she'd brought with her. As they're busying themselves getting settled, pulling off coats and reaching for corn and sweet potatoes, Lilly turns to Grace and whispers, "Who is that?"

Grace knows very little about her father's relationship with this woman and both of her parents would like to keep it this way. Still, their eldest, unfortunately, knows who the woman is, and replies, "That's Jenna."

"Is she a pirate?" Henry then asks, a little less quiet than his sister had. "Why does she have a cover over her one eye?"

Grace frowns, a finger to her lips. " _Ssh!_ "

"Hi Toby," Jenna grins in his direction and then nods beside him. "Spencer."

"Jenna," Spencer says, arms still crossed at her chest. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I was in town. Thought I'd drop in," She shrugs and then turns to her side. "By the way, this is Marcus. We met in self-defense class. Isn't that great?"

"What do you need self-defense for?" Spencer asks. "Aren't you usually the one doing the attacking?"

Jenna brushes this off as if she hadn't said a thing. "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm half blind, thank you very much. Funny; have you ever heard the story of how I got that way?"

Spencer exhales heavily but says nothing. Toby, it seems, is just as speechless. Marcus decides to break said silence by complimenting, "Everything looks wonderful. Thank you so much for having me."

"We're so glad to meet you and so thrilled you could make it!" Heather replies. "Please, eat as much as you'd like."

"Thank you. I just wish I could've contributed."

"Oh, nonsense! Any guest of Jenna's is a guest of ours!"

Toby turns to his wife, asking, "They ever greet _you_ like that?"

Spencer is scowling and he can tell just by looking at her that the night's gone to hell. Henry's still staring at Jenna's eye patch and when she catches him, she beams and says, "It's real, you know. Another pirate ran me through with a broad sword."

Henry's eyes widen. "Really?"

"No," She chuckles. "But you believed it, didn't you?"

He frowns instead and Lilly takes a moment to ask, bravely, "How do you know my mom and dad?"

"Oh, honey, you don't know anything about me, do you?" Jenna sighs. "I'm your dad's sister."

Grace purses her lips and both Lilly's and Henry's eyes are immediately on him. "You have a _sister_?"

" _Step_ sister," Toby emphasizes. "Yes."

"I know all about you," Jenna continues. "I follow your mother on Instagram. You're all so cute with your family movie nights and back to school picnics. You girls are much prettier in person and Henry? You look just like your dad."

For some reason, this sentence churns his stomach and it must irritate Spencer too, for she sits up and says, "I think we should actually be going."

"Yeah, it's about an hour drive," Toby agrees, pushing back his chair and nodding at his kids to do the same. "We've got to get back. You know, bedtime and all."

"Without dessert?" Henry frowns and Spencer kisses the top of his head.

"Go get your coat and shoes," She instructs, promising, "We'll get dessert on the way home."

She thanks Daniel and Heather for the meal and for inviting them and receives a wave and a curt nod in response. After she follows her children's departure, Toby goes into the front hall, Daniel hot on his heels. He sighs and says, "Dad, look-"

"No, _you_ look," Daniel grumbles. "Thanksgiving is supposed to be spent with family and like it or not, this is yours."

"No, Dad," Toby shakes his head, gesturing over his shoulder where Spencer and their children are bundling up for the late November cold. " _That's_ mine. And call me crazy, but I'd much rather spend time with them, where I'm appreciated, than be here."

"When is it ever going to be good enough for you?" Daniel asks and for once, his voice doesn't rise an octave. "We cooked this great meal-"

"The meal wasn't the problem," Toby cuts him off. "It was the company."

Daniel sighs. "Jenna is your sister. She deserves to be here as much as you do."

" _Step_ sister," Toby once again corrects. "And forgive me for saying this, but I don't want her to be a part of my children's lives. There's a reason they hadn't met her before tonight. I wanted to keep it that way."

"Is this another great idea of Spencer's?" Daniel wants to know. "She has a lot of nerve saying that after what she and her friends did to Jenna."

"It isn't her idea. It's mine," Toby says. "And it's not about what they did to Jenna. It's about what she did to me."

"What are you talking about?" Daniel asks. "What did she do to you?"

"You know what, Dad?" Toby replies. "I've been waiting _years_ to hear you ask that question, but now? It's too late."

He zips his coat as Daniel shakes his head. "I don't understand."

"No," Toby agrees. "You don't."

And with that, they're out the door. On the highway, Spencer asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Toby nods and truthfully, he is.

"Good," Grace chimes in. "Because I'd like to know why you kept it a secret from Henry and Lilly that you had a stepsister. And why I only ever knew she existed and nothing else about her."

"Daddy," Lilly pipes up. "Is she evil like Cinderella's stepsisters?"

"Lilly, she's worse," Toby says. "Remember how, a while ago, we had a very, very important talk about honesty and about getting hurt and about different kinds of pain?"

Through the rearview mirror, he notes all three nodding heads. "And remember when I told you that a long time ago, there was someone who thought they had a lot of power over me and that was something that really hurt me?"

"Yes," Henry says. "You were scared."

"I was. I was very scared," Toby replies. "I think it's time we add a bit more to that talk. The truth is, you can be hurt by anyone; even by people who are supposed to love you."

"Oh my God," Grace gasps. "Jenna is the one who hurt you!"

"Like when the stepsisters tore up Cinderella's dress and locked her in the dungeon so she couldn't go to the ball?" Lilly asks and Toby smiles just a bit.

"Yeah, kind of like that," He tells them. "What's important is, you guys love each other very, very much and I know none of you would ever dream of hurting each other that way. You're very lucky to have each other. I wasn't. But eventually, I got the courage to break free. And after that, I was safe."

Henry then adds, "And that's why you got your tattoo."

"Right," Toby nods. "To remind myself that I was stronger than I thought and that I'd never let anyone have that kind of power over me again."

He glances at Spencer, who's in the passenger seat with tears in her eyes, and asks, "So what did we learn?"

"That sometimes people's siblings are really awful," Grace says. "And I pretty much hit the jackpot?"

"Right," Toby chuckles. "And?"

"To tell you if someone ever hurts us like that," Lilly then says softly.

"Right," Toby agrees. "Because Mommy and I will always believe you. Always."

"Okay," Henry agrees. "Now can we get dessert please? Mommy promised."

Spencer chuckles and says, "I _did_ promise."

"I'll see what I can do," Toby says and as the miles roll on, conversation grows quiet. After a beat, he catches his wife staring and asks, "What?"

"Nothing," She shakes her head. "Some pretty heavy conversation for Thanksgiving."

"Hey, what can I say?" He defends. "I was inspired by the company."

"I'm thankful you handled it the way you did," Spencer tells him. "I am _not_ the one to teach them that lesson."

"I'm thankful for you," Toby then says and a smile grows on her face. "Because you're my angel and there's no way I could've done any of this without you."

Her hand finds his on the gearshift and they drive on.

* * *

Halfway through opening presents, Lilly gasps and points out the window, where a generous snowfall has begun, the windows frosting over with a wintry chill. Truth be told, even though they live in the northeast, they rarely if ever have a white Christmas, so the flittering icy flakes are a welcomed surprise. Spencer's curled up on the couch, a steaming mug of cocoa between her hands and Toby's arm around her, as they watch their children delight in their findings under the tree. She honestly couldn't be happier; the spirit of the season combined with the cozy warmth of the cocoa and crackling fire, the pure joy and surprise upon their children's faces, and the soft caroling of Christmas music emanating from the sound system is enough to warm the heart of even the toughest Grinch. And no, Spencer's never been one to believe in hope and promise, but she has to admit there _is_ something about this time of year that sparks a different side of her. She doesn't know what it is and it's fleeting at best, but she fully embraces it while it's here.

Henry's favorite gift of the day is a box of K'NEX, which he immediately tears into and begins to pair the tiny pieces together, right in the middle of the floor. For weeks and weeks, he's been taking utensils, pens, pipe cleaners, pretty much _anything_ he could find and creating masterful buildings and vehicles out of them, claiming he was building things just like his father. And so, eyes wide, Henry excitedly sets the colorful pieces together and makes animals, bikes, drones… you name it. He doesn't touch the rest of his gifts for hours. Lilly had received her very first American Girl doll- the star of 1904 Samantha Parkington- and could barely contain her excitement. She'd had a Bitty Baby since she was three and while her friends all had a doll of their own, Lilly claimed her tiny baby doll was enough for her. But her parents had caught her on multiple occasions glancing longingly at the catalogue and Samantha's description sounded just like the little girl they're raising; much like the doll, Lilly is all heart and always ready to lend a hand to someone in need. And never to be left out, Grace had received an iPhone for Christmas, her very first cell phone, and had been incredibly surprised and just as pleased. At thirteen, almost fourteen, with her social life rapidly climbing and her extracurricular activities list growing longer and longer, Spencer and Toby had realized they could put off this milestone no longer. Upon unwrapping it, she'd shrieked excitedly, hugged and kissed both of them, and then unveiled her brand new phone and immediately begun setting it up. She's been downloading apps and contacting her friends ever since.

Thanksgiving with Toby's parents has been a tradition for a few years, but dating back even further is their tradition of spending Christmas with hers. In the years past, there have been some ups and downs, some Christmases more positive than others. There's drama galore, but it's something Spencer's used to, having grown up in the Hastings House of Horrors and she allows herself to absorb the drama while she's there, knowing there isn't much to be found, thankfully, in her daily life. As she knows from her last phone call with her mother, her father had stepped on a sea urchin on a beach in Bora Bora over Thanksgiving and subsequently spent most of the holiday in a hospital room after suffering a terrible reaction to it. Melissa and her family had spent Thanksgiving in London with Wren's family and Spencer's sure there's something for her sister to gloat over, there. Either way, she's sure there will be much to share, so here they are, on the doorstep of her childhood home as snow continues to swirl around them, Spencer mentally preparing herself for what's on the other side.

She must have the face of someone who's internally combusting, because Toby's hand's on her arm in a moment, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She nods and adds a smile to convince him. "Why?"

"You look petrified," He tells her. "It's actually exactly how you looked on Thanksgiving. And I got it, then, but these are _your_ parents now, and… Oh. I guess I still get it."

"It's fine," Spencer replies and she's mostly assuring herself, after all. "They're my parents. I should be happy about visiting them, right?"

"Right," Toby agrees. "But you and I both know that's not how it works."

Spencer sighs. "Deep breaths."

"Deep breaths," Toby echoes and nods towards their middle child, the only one tuned into their conversation. "And try and relax, okay? When you get anxious, so does she."

Spencer nods, understanding, and not for the first time laments that one of the things she dislikes most about herself has manifested itself in her daughter. She reaches out and rings the doorbell one more time before turning to Lilly and saying, "I don't know what is taking Grandma and Grandpa so long. We're all going to freeze out here."

"Is the door locked?" Lilly asks and when her mother nods, she adds, "But Mommy, don't you have a key?"

Spencer smiles at her daughter, unsurprised; she always thinks of everything. "I do, somewhere. Not with me."

Lilly nods and holds her doll a little closer, saying, "You're kind of like Samantha's grandma, you know."

"I am?" Spencer chuckles. "Lil, I don't know if I'm ready to be a grandma."

"Is Grandma ready to be a great-grandma?"

The lock clicks out of place and the door swings open just as Spencer replies, "I guess you'll have to ask."

Veronica's wearing a cream sweater and a nice pair of slacks, a wide grin on her face. "Hi! I'm so glad you're here! You're a little early; the caterer _just_ left."

"The caterer?" Spencer says. "Mom, you said you were making it yourself this year."

"And I was going to pass it off as homemade, but you got here early," Veronica tells her daughter before bending down and accepting the hug Henry's offering her. "Hello, sweetheart! How's my favorite boy?"

"Good," He grins and holds up his latest design. "Look what I made!"

"Oh," Veronica nods, slightly enthused. "What is that?"

Henry's face falls just slightly as he glances down at it, clearly upset she hadn't recognized it right away. "It's a jet plane. I _knew_ I should've made the wings bigger."

He steps forward into the house as Grace takes over, next in line for her grandmother's hug. "It's alright Grandma. I had no clue what it was, either."

Veronica chuckles just a bit and notes the phone clutched in her granddaughter's hand. "Ah, and this was your big gift?"

"Yes!" Grace shrieks excitedly. "Most of my friends already have a cell phone, but honestly, I think I'm just going to use mine for games. They're _so_ fun!"

"Thirteen's a little young, isn't it?" Veronica addresses Spencer next, who rolls her eyes.

"Dad got me my first phone when I was nine," Spencer replies and Lilly smiles at her mother.

"Ooh, does that mean I only have two more years?"

"You have six," Spencer teases. "You'll get yours at thirteen like Grace did."

"And who is this?" Veronica then wonders, glancing at the doll firmly tucked in Lilly's arm. "She's dressed so nicely for Christmas!"

"Samantha Parkington, my new American Girl doll," Lilly answers softly. "I decided her middle name is Lillian 'cause that's my name and I'm her mom."

"Lillian Rose," Spencer grins. "You are a sweetheart."

Lilly smiles just a bit and Toby chuckles, commenting, "Lil, you got full-named! Remember how you were saying the other day we never call you by your full name?"

She nods and Veronica implores, "You don't? Why not? It's a beautiful name."

"Tell her why not, Lil."

"'Cause," Lilly shrugs. "You only get called by your whole name if you're in trouble."

Veronica laughs and bends down to hug the child. "Ah, I see! And you _never_ get in trouble, huh?"

Lilly shakes her head and it's mostly true; rarely, if ever, does Lilly find herself on the receiving end of discipline. As they shuffle inside, Veronica closes the door behind her and reaches for Toby next, collecting him in a heartfelt embrace and kissing his cheek. "It's been so long, Toby. How are you, honey?"

"I'm good. I'm really good," Toby says. "How are you?"

"Doing well," Veronica replies. "And how are your parents? I heard Thanksgiving was… interesting, to say the least."

"They're alright, I guess." He shrugs. "As good as they can be."

"I've actually been meaning to tell you, I ran into your father at the post office a few weeks ago," Veronica then says, reaching for their coats and tucking them away in the hall closet. "He was in front of me and I thought it was him, but I wasn't sure until he gave his name."

Toby asks, "Did you talk?"

"He looked at me and I think he might have recognized me," Veronica says. "But then he looked away, so I got my stamps and headed out. You'd think he would've at least said hello. I mean, we're practically family."

Spencer glances at her mother and points out, "You could've said hello too, you know."

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Veronica exclaims, scandalized by the mere idea. "But my God, my daughter's married to his son. We're not _strangers_."

Spencer can literally feel the frustration beginning to build as they enter the living room, but Toby shoots her a look and it dissipates just a tad. There's a cheese plate with some crackers and some veggies and hummus on the coffee table that her children have begun to snack on and just then, Peter enters the room, his face breaking into a grin. "There's my little devils! Come over here and give Grandpa a hug!"

They oblige just as the doorbell rings a second time and Veronica turns on her heel, in pursuit of it. "That must be your sister, Spence. Weird; she's early, too. Must be Wren. Melissa's never been punctual a day in her life."

"Yeah right," Spencer disagrees, shaking her head. "She's been on a strict schedule since she left the womb."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I _love_ Christmas with the Hastings'?" Toby jokes, his voice low. "It's like being cast in a reality TV series."

Spencer sighs. "I _should_ be getting paid for this, honestly."

Within moments, her sister, her brother-in-law and her fifteen-year-old niece are on the scene and oddly, Spencer feels a little more at peace, now. Here are three other people her mother can nag instead of nagging her. It's an awful way to think and she's going to hell for sure, but it makes her smile inwardly, something that quickly fades when Peter reaches to embrace Vivian, saying, "Hi, Viv! How are you doing, angel?"

She's still frowning when Melissa comes over to hug Spencer overdramatically. "Spencer! Long time! You never call me anymore."

"You never call me either," Spencer shrugs. "And how come my kids are devils but yours is an angel?"

"What?" Melissa probes, feigning ignorance. "Oh please, Spence, it's a nickname. It doesn't mean anything."

"Right. Of course it doesn't."

"You're always trying to start something," Melissa sighs. "Look, a nickname's a nickname. Toby's called Grace monkey since the day she was born, but that doesn't make her a primate. They don't mean anything; they just stick."

"I'm not trying to start _anything_ ," Spencer clarifies. "But if there's one thing I learned from this house, it's that there's always something to separate you from someone else. And the longer my kids spend here, they're going to notice it, too."

"You're being _ridiculous_ ," Melissa says and turns to her sister's side, asking, "Is she always like this, Toby?"

Toby glances from his wife to his sister-in-law before saying, "Merry Christmas, Melissa. It's good to see you."

She smirks. "Avoid my question, that's fine. Merry Christmas to you, too."

Peter builds a crackling fire in moments and turns on flowing Christmas carols while Veronica busies herself in the kitchen, sorting through hot trays of food and setting them up on the dining room table, Spencer and Melissa sipping identical glasses of wine and helping here and there. On the couch, Toby is seated, engaged in conversation with his father-in-law, who's in the armchair and on the floor beside the coffee table, Henry is taking apart his jet plane and showing Wren how he can make just about anything with it, instead. Lilly's sitting on the steps, combing through Samantha's silky hair and having a rousing good time alone, just her and her brand new doll. And at the far end of the living room, Grace and Vivian compare Christmas gifts, the former showing her cousin all the features of her new cell phone and the latter, opening a brand new designer bag and pulling out a small MacBook Air.

Spencer notices this and asks her sister, "A Dooney and Bourke _and_ a laptop? A little much, don't you think, Melissa?"

"Well, I was going to get her just the purse," Melissa insists. "But she's been _so_ busy with her homework lately and she's constantly on the computer and she's usually holding one or both of us up, so we figured we'd just get one for her so she could have her own. Wren's idea, honestly, but it makes sense."

"I'm sure homework is _all_ she's doing on there," Spencer jokes and Melissa purses her lips.

"She doesn't have time for anything else," Melissa says. "She barely even sees her friends anymore."

"Wow, that's healthy."

"You know what I mean. We were the same way."

"Yeah, and look how _stellar_ we turned out because of it."

"Hey," Veronica cuts in, straightening the tablecloth. "I don't think either of you turned out too badly."

"Yeah, you wouldn't," Spencer sighs and finishes off her glass. "More wine?"

Both her mother and sister nod and she pours them each a second glass. After a sip, Melissa asks, "So, Lilly's brunette now? Last time I saw her, she was blonde."

"Yeah, her hair's been getting darker and darker," Spencer replies. "I mean, not as dark as mine or Grace's, but… Yeah. It's still pretty. It's like an auburn in the sunlight."

"Wait," Melissa shakes her head. "I thought you let her dye it?"

"Dye it?" Spencer exclaims, incredulous. "What is this, _Toddlers and Tiaras_?"

"I don't know!"

"You thought I let my seven-year-old dye her hair?"

"I don't _know!_ " Melissa shrieks. "I guess that seemed like the only logical explanation."

"More logical than biology?" Spencer wonders. "Toby's hair was blonde when he was a kid, too. I knew, when she was born, there was a pretty good chance she wasn't going to stay blonde forever."

"Well, excuse me," Melissa scoffs, taking a long sip of wine before commenting, "God forbid I even ask a question."

"Will one of you grab the ham and potatoes, please?" Veronica then begs as she rearranges the bowls of green beans and corn. "They're the biggest ones. Freshly cut and freshly mashed."

"Yeah, not by you, though," Spencer teases, earning a chastising look from her mother.

As they're returning to the dining room, hot pans in hand, Melissa then asks, "Did I tell you Viv's on the high honor roll _again_? She's been specially picked to be-"

"-among the first to receive an invitation to join the National Honors Society," Spencer finishes. "Yes, you have. Twice, now."

"I'm sorry! I'm just proud of her."

"You should be," Spencer agrees. "That's huge. I congratulated her already."

"She's so excited," Melissa goes on. "She always puts an enormous amount of effort into her schoolwork and that's the most important thing. To be recognized for it is just icing on the cake."

"A perfect start to a bright future," Veronica comments and Melissa nods her agreement. Spencer's inwardly rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, here I am blabbering on," Melissa says. "How do your three like school? Are they doing well?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't they?"

"No need to get defensive, honey," Veronica says. "It was a simple question."

"And I gave a simple answer," Spencer replies. "I don't feel the need to brag about my children's success, but if that's what you want, here it is. Henry's reading at the fourth grade level whereas most of the kids in his kindergarten class are just learning. Lilly's in a fifth grade math class, doing percentages and fractions while the rest of her class is still learning multiplication. And Grace, in September, was actually asked if she'd like to skip eighth grade and go straight to high school, but she declined. Just, you know, since you asked."

Melissa appears to be speechless, but Veronica beams with pride. "That's wonderful. Just wonderful! I can't believe Henry! Remember how worried you were before he started school?"

"I was worried about _all_ of them when they left me," Spencer corrects her. "But it turns out, I didn't need to. He walked right onto that school bus with a big smile on his face and waved to Toby and I from the front seat."

"And Lilly!" She exclaims next. "Wow! Fifth grade; that's impressive."

"Yeah, and she devours books left and right. We basically live at the library," Spencer says. "She never has too many; we can't keep her satisfied."

"I'm a little concerned about Grace, though," Veronica then frowns. "Can you imagine how that would've looked on a college application? Smart enough to skip a grade?"

"She's thirteen," Spencer shakes her head. "We're not even considering college yet."

"Oh, it's never too early," Melissa shakes her head disapprovingly. "We looked at Oxford with Viv over Thanksgiving. She adored it, of course."

Veronica nods and says, "She should have accepted the offer."

"She didn't want to," Spencer shrugs. "She didn't want to leave her friends _and_ start at a brand new school. And that's fine."

"Yes, well, this is where you come in," Veronica pushes. "It's your job as her mother to push her towards taking risks and challenging herself."

"No, you know what? It's not," Spencer disagrees. "I'm sorry, but she's not a baby anymore. She's old enough to make her own decisions and I let her because ultimately, it _is_ her choice. She's the one going to school, not me. She's the one who would have had to deal with all the change, not me. So if she wasn't ready, and she wasn't, why would I push her to do it anyway?"

Melissa shrugs. "Builds character. I would've done it."

"That's the difference between you and me, then," Spencer says. "I'm not forcing my daughter into a position that makes her uncomfortable. Yeah, it might've looked cool on a college application, but it would've made her unhappy. And Grace being happy is literally all I care about."

"She would've been happy in the end," Veronica insists. "Once she realized the reason you made her do it was because you love her."

"No, I don't think so," Spencer disagrees, adding, "I never was."

And then, there's silence, because Spencer's not sure she's ever confessed this to her mother. In fact, she can tell she hasn't, because the look of unparalleled hurt, shock and confusion in her eyes is enough of an answer. The best part is, Melissa backs her sister up with silence of her own. Spencer and Melissa had been polar opposites, right from the start, but they did share a few similarities, and one of them was the fact that neither had grown up in a happy existence. Maybe Melissa did excel at everything she tried and maybe she did get the job and the husband and the perfect child and her happily ever after, but she had worked her _ass_ off to get it; none of it had come easy. Because her success was never enough for her parents; a feeling Spencer knew well. And so, yes, she and Melissa grew up with every luxury they could ask for, with fancy dinners and fancy cars and fancy clothes, but they severely lacked one important thing, one thing money couldn't buy- happiness. And only now, as she glances at her two grown daughters, is Veronica Hastings starting to realize it.

In an effort to diffuse the tension that follows, Melissa hastily asks, "How was the trip to Bora Bora, Mom?"

"Oh, you mean after we finally left the emergency room?" Veronica frowns and begins to light the candles in the middle of the table. "Well, we got into a huge argument about the trip in general and whose fault it was for him stepping on the urchin in the first place. I told him it was his for not watching where he was going and he said it was mine for wanting to go to that beach in the first place."

"That sounds like you guys," Melissa comments, chuckling the tiniest bit.

"And it just kept snowballing and snowballing and we kept bringing up fight after fight," Veronica goes on and swears under her breath when hot wax drips onto her finger. "And then we realized that we really weren't happy together anymore. And we haven't been in a long, long time; maybe, we never were."

Melissa stops laughing. Spencer stares at her mother, asking, "What are you saying?"

"Well," Veronica sighs. "Your father and I decided to get a divorce."

"A div… A _divorce?_ " Melissa exclaims and Spencer's shaking her head so fast, it's blurring her vision.

"No, wait," She says. "Wait, tell me this is a joke. Or if it isn't, at least _tell_ me it is because you can't seriously have wanted to tell us like that."

"You can't get a divorce!" Melissa continues to shriek. "You can't! First of all, you're too old for that and second, where are we supposed to go for holidays? We already go to England for Thanksgiving, so someone is going to get left out!"

"Is that _really_ what you're focusing on, here?" Spencer asks before turning back to her mother. "Mom, please, tell me you at least talked through this and didn't make any rash decisions."

"We talked. We talked for _hours_. It was the best talk we've ever had."

"Well, that's at least something, right?"

"At the end, I brought up the two of you," Veronica says and it doesn't surprise Spencer at all that she and her sister were not their first thought. They never are. "I thought of you and Wren, Melissa, and you and Toby, Spencer, and you two are so _happy_. And you deserve to be, but don't I deserve it, too? I'm not. It's been so long, but I'm not sure I ever was."

"So you regret it, then?" Melissa wonders. "You regret ever getting with Dad in the first place?"

"Well…" Veronica considers this and at this, Melissa explodes.

"How can you _say_ that?" She shouts. "I wouldn't be here, Spencer wouldn't be here, our kids… _Everyone_ you love, our entire existence, was dependent on you and Dad getting married and settling down. How can you regret that?"

"I don't regret it," Veronica assures her. "Not any of it. I wouldn't change you girls or my precious grandkids for anything. But your father and I are the same person and I honestly don't know why we thought it might work. We always competed over _everything_ and when he won, I couldn't even be happy for him, because I was too busy being sorry for myself."

Spencer takes this into consideration before asking, "Can't you give him another chance? Please? For us and for our kids? Think about how hard this is going to be for them."

"We discussed it," Veronica nods. "And we aren't going to make a move just yet. We weren't even going to tell you until it was a done deal. It needs a lot of discussion and we both need to be one hundred percent certain, which we aren't, at least not yet."

Melissa asks, hopeful, "So it may not even happen at all?"

"It may not."

"Then why torture us with this?"

"I didn't mean for you to find out," Veronica sighs. "But I need you to keep it a secret until we decide one way or another."

Spencer scoffs in disbelief. "A secret?"

"Yes," Veronica confirms. "As I recall, you're quite good with those."

Turning on her heel, Veronica pastes on a smile and announces to the rest of the family that dinner is served, her daughters left standing, stung and shell-shocked, in her wake. Slowly, the other members of the party filter in and take their seats. Henry's ignored the 'no drones at the table' rule and Grace is chuckling beside him. Wren kisses Melissa's cheek and she returns the gesture halfheartedly, her mind still elsewhere. Spencer takes so much time with the news that she finds herself sinking into the nearest chair, right beside Lilly. From across the table, Toby shoots her his best concerned gaze and she finds herself shaking her head softly. Not now, they'd surely discuss this later; there's no _way_ she's keeping this a secret from him. They say a blessing and dig in, but before Spencer can even lift a fork, a tiny hand slips into hers and when she glances to her side, her middle child's brow is knit with worry.

"Are you okay, Mommy?"

"I'm fine, baby," Spencer assures her, squeezing her little hand gently. "Are you?"

Lilly nods eagerly, but observes, "Sometimes Christmas is sad, too?"

Spencer sighs but nods just a bit. "Sometimes. But luckily, we have people in our lives that can still make things bright even when they're a little darker."

"Like you?" Lilly grins and Spencer chuckles.

"Like _you_ ," She assures her daughter. "And Grace and Daddy and Henry. Being with family is what makes Christmas happy, right?"

"Right," Lilly agrees. "I love our family. We have the best one."

"We do, Lilly," Spencer grins. "The very best."


	20. point me toward tomorrow

**Hey friends! Wow, remember that awkward time that I wanted to write a wedding chapter for Spencer and Toby and it ended up being over 18,000 words? Yeah, you probably don't remember that because it's literally happening right now. Every time I wanted to end the chapter, I had a new idea and then it got longer and longer and I never shut up. SO. I'm super sorry it's so long but I mean... It's the 20th chapter so it's kind of a big deal, I guess? And it's the 20th of August! It's almost like I planned it! (I did. I finished the chapter five days ago :P)  
**

 **Today's chapter title comes from "What I Did For Love" from the musical "A Chorus Line," one of my personal favorites. Thank you for being wonderful readers and reviewers. I'm going to go before this gets any longer. Byeeee!**

* * *

kiss today goodbye and point me toward tomorrow

It's April and her entire master's program has already gone by and she's not sure how she missed it.

But, she's accomplished more than the average 24-year-old and she's pretty sure her pre-graduation stress, master's thesis and wedding planning have something to do with it.

Their wedding is this weekend. Honestly, it doesn't even seem real, because they don't live together, she's been studying nonstop for her finals, and this morning she went to the graduation rehearsal instead of her final wedding dress fitting (she's basically just hoping for the best, there). Her things are in boxes back in her apartment and she's pretty much a bundle of stress these days, but what else is new? They don't have time for a honeymoon- not until the summer, anyway- so they're going away for a long weekend in the Poconos, but until then, she's getting ready to move back into his loft to spend lazy summer days as husband and wife. The thought of this, honestly, is the reason she's powering through, because with everything else on her mind, she's not sure how else she'd be able to do it.

To be honest, this whole long distance thing is really shitty. She'd tried so hard to convince Toby to move out here to New Haven with her before she'd begun her graduate schooling, and she'd tried again after they'd gotten engaged, and she'd tried again when she had an anxiety attack while home for the weekend with him at a wine tasting, and still, he's in Rosewood and she's hundreds of miles away. She wants to be mad at him for this and, honestly, on her worst days, she is. But she understands his reasoning; he's busy. So is she. And to be fair, they're really bad at getting things done when they're together and really good at distracting one another from important tasks. None of those things combine for a successful completion of a master's degree _or_ the attainment of return clients for Toby's business. So it makes sense; really, it does. But just because something makes sense doesn't mean it also doesn't totally _suck_.

She's turning in her thesis tomorrow morning and then making the long drive home- solo, because Toby has to pick up his tux and meet with the caterer last minute and pick up some out of town relatives from the airport. They'd compromised with her parents on only one thing- the location of the wedding. Gone were the twelve-tiered cake, the mustard and charcoal color scheme and the guest list of five hundred people, but they had finally relented on allowing the wedding to be held at her family's favorite spot- the Rosewood Country Club. Spencer honestly couldn't give a single shit about the club- that was always her parents' and sister's favorite place to be- but she'd be doing her and Toby's relationship a huge disservice if she ignored the Rosewood factor. It was the sole reason they had ever met, had ever noticed one another, had ever bonded over mutually sad existences, and though it brought both of them so much pain at times it was unbearable, it had also brought them so many good times, so many memories, and so much love. So they got their intimate wedding of only close family and friends, a color scheme of white, marsh and gemstone blue, and a simple, bookish atmosphere with hints of Scrabble here and there and her parents got their Rosewood wedding (so they don't have to travel) and the country club (so they can boast to their friends come Monday morning) and everyone's happy.

She's trudging up the stairs to their apartment, ignoring the howls and shouts from the frat house across the street (she'll never forgive her roommate for making them rent on Greek Row) and trying desperately not to think of all the things she still has to do. She needs to call the florist to make sure they deliver the flowers- and the _right_ flowers- on time on Saturday and she needs to call the club to confirm the rehearsal dinner and the reception. She needs to proofread her thesis, all eighty-five pages of it, for the umpteenth time and she needs to print it out and bind it and keep it away from anything that could touch and destroy it. She frowns when she pulls out her phone and realizes Toby hasn't texted her all day, but she imagines he's probably just as busy as she is, these days; the wedding planning has been nonstop and, hey, he's the one with the full-time job, too. She unlocks the door to the apartment and finds her roommate in the downward facing dog position on a yoga mat in their empty living room.

Spencer smirks and says, "Way to make use of our ample space."

Amanda chuckles and stands, stretching into a tree pose next. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? All the furniture's on the truck and my things are in boxes."

Spencer shakes her head. "Can you believe we're done already? Feels like yesterday we started."

"It pretty much was," Amanda agrees. "And _you're_ getting married this weekend. We're getting old as fuck."

Laughing, Spencer asks, "You'll be there, right?"

"I'm pretty sure you've asked me this everyday since you got engaged," Amanda rolls her eyes. "Of course I'm coming, are you kidding? Open bar? Single guys I've never met nor hooked up with yet? Sign me up."

"Okay," Spencer comments. "Maybe we aren't growing up."

Amanda purses her lips before nodding towards the kitchen counter. "You have mail, The Future Mrs. Cavanaugh."

"Oh do I?" She wonders and her heart still flutters, even now, at the sound of her soon-to-be surname. She pads cross the floor and finds the envelope, chuckling when she realizes that it's her address scrawled in his oddly beautiful handwriting, but the name attached to the address is exactly what her roommate had said.

 _The Future Mrs. Cavanaugh_.

She takes the envelope to her bedroom, closing the door behind her, and it clicks in place and echoes throughout the empty room. Navigating her way through boxes, Spencer sits down upon her bed and tears the envelope open, finding a card with a message on the front in bold, colorful font that makes her tear up upon reading it: _You're there and I'm here and between us are stupid planes and buses and too-long-for-one weekend car rides. Can we just be in the same place already?_ If ever there was a Hallmark card that spoke to her soul, it's this one. She chuckles somewhat miserably and then opens it, reading Toby's personalized message next: _Three more days, Spencer. Or, probably two or one by the time you get this. I miss you so much and I can't wait to see you. Good luck on your thesis- I know you'll knock it out of the park. Love, Toby. P.S.- I addressed the envelope 'The Future Mrs. Cavanaugh' but I'm fully expecting you to lecture me on how sexist this is or something. You definitely don't have to change your last name if you don't want to, okay? Okay. I love you!_

She has the best fiancé in the entire world.

Spencer's barely finished the card before she's dialing his number. Also, those tears are officially streaming down her face, because she loves him and misses him _so_ much, but he doesn't particularly need to know about her sudden bout of emotions. He answers on the third ring and sounds about as exhausted as she feels when he does. "Hey. Everything okay?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," Spencer says, sighing and leaning back against the wall. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend he's here beside her and not hundreds of miles away. "Is something wrong?"

"No. No, I just… I just got off the phone with my dad. But it's fine. It's whatever."

Spencer frowns. "I doubt it. What did he say?"

"Nothing. I don't want to give you anymore ammunition."

"Please," Spencer scoffs. "If he's going to be his usual self I won't even need any."

She hears him chuckle and takes this as a personal victory. He's not easy to cheer up following conversations with his father. "It's nothing. What's going on there? Turn in your thesis yet?"

"No and it's burning a hole on my desk, basically," Spencer sighs. "Tomorrow morning. I can't wait until it's away from me. I'm _so_ sick of looking at it."

"Will you send me a copy? So I can read it?"

Her heart melts. "You'd want to?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's 85 pages of me rambling on about autism, ADHD, Down syndrome and other neurodevelopmental disorders," Spencer says. "It's not exactly _The Catcher in the Rye_ , Toby."

"I don't care. _You_ wrote it. You worked really, really hard on it. And I don't know that much about neurodevelopmental disorders, so who better to teach me?"

She'd marry him on the spot if she could. She sighs dreamily and says, "I love you so much."

"I love you too. I miss you. I'm excited to see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I can't _wait_ ," Spencer says and her heart does a little somersault in anticipation. "I got your card today."

"Jeez, finally. I sent that forever ago. Did you like it?"

"Loved it, except it made me miss you even more," Spencer frowns. "This long distance thing is total bullshit."

"I know. But it's almost done. We're _almost_ there. And if we survived six years of this, I think we can survive twenty-four hours."

"Twenty- _one_ ," Spencer corrects. "I should be home by noon, twelve-thirty at the latest."

"Okay. That's good. You can come to the meeting with the caterer with me."

"Okay," She nods. "Twenty-one hours. We can do this."

"We can. Because after those twenty-one hours, we'll never be apart again."

"Well not _never_ ," Spencer disagrees. "I'm starting my doctoral degree program in August and you'll still travel for work."

"Yeah, but I'm moving to New York with you _and_ I'll always come back. It won't ever be _too_ long. You know that."

"Yeah, that's true," Spencer grins. "I can't wait. I can't wait to live together. I can't wait to get married. I can't wait to be together all the time; so much that we'll get sick of each other."

He laughs again, saying, "I can't wait for those things, too, though I'm not sure we'll get sick of each other."

"Well," Spencer beams. "We'll soon get the opportunity to find out."

* * *

He's just returned to the loft and is hanging his tuxedo in his closet when he gets a text from Spencer saying she'll be home in ten minutes. He grins and his entire body ignites with anticipation, physically aching with longing and the desire to see her. It may have been his decision, initially, to remain focused upon their own goals in their own respective locations, but it doesn't mean he's enjoyed it any more than Spencer has. In fact, it's been quite the opposite; there have been days where he's been so miserable, so incredibly lonely, that's he's considered just saying fuck it and packing up his things to move out there with her. He's always glad, after, that he hadn't; he doesn't want to mess anything up. They have a plan and, like it or not, they're going to stick to it.

After he secures his tux, Toby heads downstairs to The Brew and orders them each a coffee, knowing she's been awake since the crack of dawn and will certainly need her caffeine fix by the time she reaches him. He's just begun to ascend the stairwell back towards the loft when he hears a car coming down the road and, grinning, he spots her behind the wheel. Gently, he places the coffees on the landing and takes the stairs two at a time as she parks and fumbles with her seatbelt, scrambling out of the car. In two long strides, he's reached her and she beams upon the sight of him, laughing a bit, before launching herself into his open arms. And there's no greater feeling, Toby thinks. There is no greater feeling than this, holding her, smelling her hair, kissing her, just simply _being_ with her and he's so _damn_ lucky because in just two short days, they're going to be husband and wife.

He has no intention of ever letting her go and he's pretty sure she feels the same way, because her arms never leave their spot around his neck. After a beat, he feels her sigh against him before saying, "This was the dumbest thing we've _ever_ done and I'm never letting you make a decision again."

Toby laughs and kisses her hair, her neck, her shoulder. "Oh yeah? I don't get a say, anymore?"

"Toby, we're going to be married in a few days," She says as if he doesn't know, when in reality, it's all he can think about. "You don't get a say for the rest of our lives."

His arms drop from around her and the grin on her face falters just a bit. He shakes his head, shrugging, and heads up the stairs to the loft. "Oh. Okay, then. I guess you don't need this coffee I got for you, either then. I thought it might be nice, but since I don't get a say…"

"Wait," She trails after him. "You got me coffee?"

"No, I got _me_ two coffees."

Spencer pulls a face and climbs the stairs, pulling the door shut behind her. "I was kidding. You know we're going to be equals. We always have been."

"Yeah, you say that now, but…" He grimaces after he takes a sip of her coffee and places it on the table beside his. "Oh my god. This is _awful_. I can't even pretend to drink this."

"Stop making fun of my coffee," Spencer rolls her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest. "And come make out with me."

"Make out with you?" Toby asks as though he's never entertained the idea. "But your car is _full_ of boxes we have to unload."

"We have all summer! Come make out with me!"

"But," He continues to tease. "Your coffee! You were all bent out of shape about it a second ago."

"It's better iced, anyway," She shrugs. "Kiss me!"

He grins, crosses the room, and scoops her up, laying on one her, _Notebook_ -style. They're both out of breath when she frames his face in her hands and whispers, "That was needlessly dramatic."

"You're needlessly dramatic all the time and yet, we keep you around."

She giggles and kisses him again and his toes curl and his heart skips a beat and he's not sure he's ever felt this happy in his life. "I've missed you _so_ much."

Spencer grins and gets that look in her eye, the one he knows all too well. She cocks an eyebrow at him and suddenly, she's all bedroom eyes. "Yeah? How much?"

"We can't," He laments. "We have to meet with the caterer in twenty minutes. And I have to pick up my grandparents and my aunt from the airport in Philly."

She frowns. "Twenty minutes? We've made do with less."

"We haven't seen each other in a month and I don't _totally_ trust us, right now," Toby tells her and she bites her lip, knowing he's right. "But tonight. I'm taking you out to dinner to celebrate the completion of your thesis."

"You are?" Her eyes widen and, call him crazy, but is that hope in her eyes?

"Yeah, of course," He grins. "I am so, _so_ ridiculously proud of you. I mean, I've always known you're a genius but now the world will, too. Or, at least, the world of Yale University."

Her lips are on his not seconds later. In between kisses, she says, "Thank you. I love you. I can't wait."

"I love you, too," He replies and betrays his better judgment as he allows himself to deepen the kiss further.

Reluctantly, she pulls away, reaches for her coffee and tugs on his hand. "Caterer?"

Frowning the tiniest bit, he agrees. "Caterer."

And they're off. They hold hands the entire way, linked over the gearshift, her engagement ring sparkling in the early afternoon sunlight. Once again, the caterer tries to sell them on salmon mousse and pigs in a blanket for their appetizers during cocktail hour and once again, they have to decline because they have no idea _what_ salmon mousse is (it sounds supremely awful and much too fancy for their liking) and pigs in a blanket are for children at New Year's Eve parties, not adults at weddings (and, honestly, it's a little too informal; one extreme to the other). While Spencer begins to unpack a little later on, hanging the dress she'll wear to tomorrow night's rehearsal dinner on the closet door, Toby makes the drive to Philadelphia to retrieve his relatives, using the silence to take a moment to realize that they're here, they're _finally_ here, and all those who'd thought they'd never make it past high school are about to proven _so_ wrong. When Toby returns, he and Spencer head out to dinner and decide to walk there and back, because it's a beautiful spring evening, and they toast their upcoming nuptials and talk and laugh just like old times. On the way home, they run into Pam and Wayne Fields, who offer their congratulations this time in person and exclaim how excited they are for the wedding, and Andrew Campbell, who's exiting The Brew with a coffee in his hands and hugs Spencer and makes awkward eye contact with Toby (and maybe glances at the ring on Spencer's finger a little _too_ long). Needless to say, it's been an interesting day and an even stranger, albeit wonderful, evening, and the second the door falls shut behind them, they resume their activities from earlier that afternoon.

He's still trying to calm his breathing after back to back rounds of zealous lovemaking when she props herself up on her elbow to ask, "How weird is it that Andrew still lives here?"

He glances at her, amused, and asks in return, "How weird is it that he's still kind of obsessed with you?"

She rolls her eyes and swats at him. "He is not."

"He definitely wishes he was the one to put a ring on it."

"Thank you, Beyoncé," Spencer chuckles and he laughs, too. "But he never would've had the chance, so who cares? I just think it's weird that he's still here. I always assumed he'd be one of those people who'd get out, make a career and a name for himself, and do all of that somewhere big, like L.A. or New York. It's so weird."

"I'm guessing you don't talk anymore," Toby says. "He seemed pretty surprised to see you."

"Yeah, I mean, we kept in touch for a while in undergrad, but then…" She trails off and shrugs. "The girls are the only ones I cared about keeping. Plus, each time I spoke with him, without fail, he'd ask if we were still together. And that was really fucking annoying."

"I mean," Toby shrugs, too. "You've got to give him credit. I can't blame him for trying. You're amazing; who _wouldn't_ want to be with you?"

She smiles warmly and shakes her head. "Stop it."

"I'm serious," Toby insists. "You think I don't know how lucky I am? That's why _I_ put a ring on it; had to lock that down."

She laughs and says, "Well believe me, I'm just as fortunate. Don't even think for a second that you're the only one lucking out, here."

He kisses her languidly, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She pulls away first because they're smiling too wide to continue. "I can't believe we're going to be married in two days. Like… _married_."

"Tell me about it. It's surreal," He agrees. "Did you figure out where you're sleeping tomorrow night?"

"Aria's," Spencer sighs, rolling away from him as her back hits the mattress. "Which is _awesome_ because she and Ezra are back on again so guess who I get to spend the night with?"

"Your former English teacher," Toby grimaces. "You know I think this is stupid and you should just stay here with me tomorrow, right?"

"I do, but… It's _tradition_ ," She insists. "We're supposed to spend the night before apart. And we can't see each other _at all_ the day of. You know that; it's bad luck!"

"You and I have had plenty of bad luck and we've survived all of it," Toby points out and she frowns, silently agreeing.

"I don't want to risk it. It's too important to me."

"Okay," He lets it go. "Is she bringing Ezra to the wedding?"

Spencer shrugs. "I think so. I don't want him there, but I want Aria to be happy. And for some reason, he makes her happy… sometimes."

"God, I don't understand how he doesn't find this whole thing so _weird_ ," Toby shakes his head. "He's going to the wedding of one of his former students. That's not _normal_."

"No, what's not normal is that he's _dating_ one of his former students, whom he also dated while she was his _current_ student," Spencer shakes her head. "I love Aria to death; you know that. But she makes terrible decisions."

"Well, to be fair," Toby counters. "I can't say any of you made great decisions, back then."

"Hey, that's not true," Spencer disagrees. "I started dating you, didn't I?"

He grins but after a beat, remembers an unfinished conversation they'd had from the previous day. "Speaking of people we don't want at the wedding…"

Her face instantly dons an expression of concern, but she's the most intelligent person he knows, and it doesn't take long for her to catch on to his line of thinking. "What did your dad say? I forgot I wanted to grill you on this."

"No need," Toby says. "I'll tell you, I just didn't want to do it yesterday when you were already stressed over your thesis and graduation and the wedding and all that."

"Sometimes you're too selfless for your own good."

He can't argue with that. Inhaling a deep breath, he says, "I'm not sure my father and stepmother will be in attendance this weekend."

She's silent a moment before asking sharply, " _What?_ "

"Apparently, my attempts to keep the truth from him until he'd arrived have failed," Toby says. "He and Heather are not so pleased that Jenna wasn't invited."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Spencer replies, shaking her head. "And they're going to take her side on this regardless of how you feel? Regardless of the fact that this is your _wedding_ day? The happiest day of your life?"

He shrugs. "It appears that way."

Toby looks at her and can tell she's trying _so_ hard to keep herself in check, because he knows her so well, he knows how much she _hates_ speaking badly about his father because a lot of the time it hurts him more than his father's apathy ever could, but he also knows how fiercely protective she is of him, how she's always been, and he can see the struggle in her eyes before she asks, "Permission to explode?"

He chuckles, surprised she's even asked. "Permission granted."

"I'm so, _so_ sorry Toby because he's your father and I know how much you love him regardless of how shitty he's been to you," Spencer begins. "But… It's times like these when I really, really _hate_ him."

He's expected this and he simply nods. "I understand."

"I know he doesn't know what she did to you. I know he doesn't know how she made your life a living hell while you were still living at home. I know he doesn't know that she took advantage of you when you were emotionally vulnerable," Spencer begins, her chest heaving with anger. "But is that any fucking excuse? You are his _only_ son. You are _all he has left_ -"

"But I'm not," Toby interrupts, shrugging. "I'm not all he has left, because he has Heather and Jenna and he's always preferred them, anyway."

"But that's fucking bullshit," She says and he can see heartbreak in her eyes. "Because okay, yeah, maybe he has this shiny, brand-new family, but you don't. They'll never be family to you. _He's_ your family. He's all _you_ have left. And it isn't fair to you; it isn't _fair_ that he can't wake up and see this and make an appearance at one of the biggest occasions of your life. I'm just disgusted. I can't take it anymore. I am so sick of him constantly treating you like this and _constantly_ getting away with it without any repercussion or without knowing what it does to you every single time. I mean, _Jesus Christ_ , you're his son. You're his only son and you're getting married and why the fuck would he take _her_ side over yours? Why the fuck would her opinion even matter, here? Why the fuck does she take precedence over his own flesh and blood?"

Toby says nothing. He lets her get it all out, get it all off her chest, and a voice from deep inside him is shouting, _Spencer's saying what you won't; this is what he needs to hear; why won't you say it, too?_ She scrubs a hand over her face and shakes her head, disappointed and heartbroken and empathetic. "I'm sorry. I don't hate him. I just… I hate that he makes you feel like this. I hate that he does this to you. Because this is supposed to be the best weekend of our lives and he's ruining it, now."

"No one could ever ruin this," Toby assures her, a hand on her shoulder. "Not even him."

Unfortunately, she's not placated. "What did he say? What _exactly_ did he say?"

"He said… Heather called Jenna to ask if she'd gotten a dress for the wedding yet and if she wanted to carpool with them or stay with them or something," Toby says. "And she didn't even know we were engaged. She had no idea the wedding was happening and _obviously_ she didn't, because we didn't invite her. And so then she got upset because she wasn't invited, which then turned into Heather getting upset because she wasn't invited, which then turned into my father getting upset because they were both upset that Jenna wasn't invited and… He basically said that he didn't understand how we could have a family event without family. And he asked me to let him know how it turned out."

Spencer's still fuming. "'Let him know how it turns out'? Like there's any chance of it going any other way!"

"I know, Spence."

"And family? You've got to be fucking kidding me, here," She exhales. "She's _not_ your family. She has no right to be here. And I know he doesn't know what she did to you, but… God, Toby, maybe he should."

He looks her in the eye pointedly. "Now is not the time for that."

"No, I know it's not, but…" She shakes her head. "I don't know any other way that he's going to see your side of things. I understand why you've never told him and I'll understand if you still don't want to. But… He idolizes her and scrutinizes you. And it should be the opposite."

"Believe me, I know," Toby exhales heavily. "I guess we'll see if he shows up tomorrow. If it was all just hot air or if he really sticks to his guns and stays away."

"I'll probably strangle him on the spot," Spencer says. "So maybe it's best if he doesn't show up. I don't want to spend my wedding night in a maximum security prison."

He smiles, but it feels foreign somehow, and she must sense this, because she quickly backtracks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just… I want him to be here for you. I don't want him to miss it. But I also want him to stop being such a fucking prick for _once_ so that everyone can enjoy themselves."

Toby frowns. "Spencer-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really done this time," She promises and asks, "Do you want to get some jabs in on my side? My dad's a prick, too."

Toby smirks and shakes his head. "No. Let's just… Stop talking about this and let the chips fall where they may tomorrow night."

"Okay," She replies uneasily and when she settles against him, he can feel the tension coiled tight within her. She's never been good at letting things go.

Then again, neither has he. It's something that both unites and divides them, somehow.

"Are you mad at me, now?" She then asks. "I went too far, didn't I?"

"Hey, we stopped talking about this, remember?" He says and pulls her closer, reaching for the quilt as goose bumps arise on both their bare forms. "And no, of course I'm not mad at you. When was the last time I was _actually_ mad at you?"

"I don't know. But the _next_ time will probably be when we're married and that's unfathomable to me," She says, grinning. "Unless I do something to piss you off within the next twenty-four hours, which, honestly, is entirely possible, given my track record."

"Oh stop it," He disagrees. "You are the love of my life, regardless of the fact that you're also a huge pain in the ass."

Spencer laughs wholeheartedly, her head thrown back in glee. "Ah, my wonderful fiancé has nothing but good things to say about me."

"You know it."

"And soon," She continues excitedly. "You'll be my wonderful _husband_."

And, not for the first time today, his heart skips a beat.

* * *

"I never knew I had to rehearse my meal before I ate it."

He can hear her chuckle from the other side of the closed bathroom door and he grins, knowing his jest had been successful. She's been a bundle of nerves since the moment they awoke this morning and he's been wracking his brain ever since in an attempt to calm her. She calls back, "You know that's not what it is. It's basically a glorified meet and greet."

"For who?" Toby wonders, fumbling with his tie. "The strangers we invited?"

"No," She replies. "Our families. I mean, you and I are tying the knot tomorrow but we're also kind of uniting both our families together for life. So it'll be good for everyone to meet and get to know one another, right?"

"Sure," He replies sarcastically. "It's not like they have a three-hour wedding reception to do that at, or anything."

"I think it's actually going to be kind of fun," Spencer says. "I mean, the wedding rehearsal went well this morning and so we'll just kind of eat, drink and be merry. Isn't that how it goes?"

"We'll see," Toby sighs. "Should we take bets on whether or not my parents show up? Technically, this is supposed to be their doing; the financial part of the rehearsal dinner, you know."

"I know," Spencer says. "But it wasn't _that_ bad for us to handle; we made it work. And that way, we got what we wanted out of it instead of what your parents might want."

"Yeah."

"And I'm sure they'll show up. I really don't believe they'll stiff you."

"I wish I shared your optimism."

"Toby," She whines. "You can't lose faith, here. Who's going to remind me to keep my head up?"

"Keep your head up," He repeats. "Someone has to. Mine won't be."

The door clicks out of place and she pokes her head out, staring him down. "It's our wedding."

"It's our rehearsal dinner."

"Right. _For our wedding_ ," She says. "I refuse to believe he isn't coming. In fact, I refuse to _let him_ not come. So if he doesn't show up tonight or tomorrow, I'm driving there in full gown and hair and makeup and dragging him here by his pinky toe. Don't mess with me."

"Honestly, I believe you'd do that."

"I will," Spencer says and ducks back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. "I haven't been a bridezilla _at all_ , but I have the feeling that he could push me there."

"I don't know if I agree with that," Toby says. "I mean, you weren't _Hanna_ about this whole thing, but I wouldn't exactly call you calm and rational, either."

He hears her motions still and she replies, "Are you referencing the Christmas Eve incident?"

"No, I was thinking about a few months ago when we wanted to talk to your parents about scaling it back and you exploded instead of keeping it cool like you promised," Toby says and then falters. "What's the Christmas Eve incident?"

"Oh yeah, my explosion," She resumes her activities and he hears the sound of running water. "That's what I meant."

"No you didn't," He shakes his head. "What's the Christmas Eve incident?"

She heaves a sigh. "I definitely _didn't_ almost disown my sister and she definitely _didn't_ threaten me with physical violence if I didn't take her advice on a color scheme and I definitely _didn't_ decide right there, to her face, that she would never be my maid of honor. And she definitely didn't throw my parents' crystal vase at my head and I didn't duck so it made a hole in the dining room wall."

Toby's eyes are wide. "I don't remember _any_ of that."

"You worked late, remember?" She reminds him. "You missed it."

"Oh yeah," He recalls, nodding. "Your mother seemed so frazzled and you looked _wild_ but no one would tell me what was going on and then your father pushed a drink into my hands."

"Yep. It always comes to physical blows with my sister. She'll never grow up."

"I never understood why he gave me alcohol and this awful warning look," Toby says. "But I guess I get it, now. He's like, 'Good luck' and I just kind of stared at him. Good luck with what? You've never thrown anything at me."

"Yet."

Toby smirks. "Are you ready yet? We need to be there in ten minutes."

"So? We can't be fashionably late?"

"To our own wedding rehearsal dinner?" Toby chuckles. "That would be awful, wouldn't it?"

She opens the door and steps into their bedroom and all of his thoughts die upon his lips. "Wow."

Squirming a little, she adjusts the hemline, toys with her necklace, sweeps hair off of her neck. "Oh come on, you can't act like you're that surprised every time I dress up."

"That's not it," He shakes his head, standing and coming closer. "You don't have to dress up to impress me. You don't have to dress _at all_ to impress me."

A blush rises on her cheeks and she ducks her head, hiding her grin. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"You're beautiful. You're always beautiful," He professes next, lifting her chin to meet her eyes. "But I just realized… Tonight's the last night you'll knock it out of the park like that as my fiancée. Tomorrow… You'll be my wife."

Her eyes alight with glee and she attaches their lips at once. She pulls back after a moment to tell him, "I'm going to need another minute, now, to fix the make up you're smudging."

Toby shrugs and pulls her back in. "Eh, so we're a few minutes late. It's fashionable."

When they do manage to pry themselves from one another, they head out into the early evening, watching the sun set across the horizon as they drive towards the swankiest hotel in town, the grand ballroom of which would be serving as their rehearsal dinner's space that night. It's just their immediate families and the bridal party in attendance and many of their guests are already there, sipping cocktails and munching on hors d'oeuvres as the meet and greet portion of the dinner gets into full swing. He and Spencer had been unceremoniously wrenched apart the moment they'd stepped in the door; Peter Hastings, for some reason, suddenly had a thousand and one questions for his future son-in-law and Emily, Spencer's chosen maid of honor (the girls had decided, in fairness, to rotate, much like Phoebe, Monica and Rachel in _Friends_ ), had pulled the bride aside and they'd been whispering furiously to one another ever since. Toby keeps a keen eye on her, making sure to watch for any signs of drama (he _really_ wants to keep this night one free of her anxiety attacks) while also trying to pay his full attention to Peter. Multitasking has never been his strong suit.

After a moment, Emily and Spencer whisk past him, and quickly, he catches her elbow to ask, "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Everything's fine," Spencer shakes her head. "I need to go light a fire under the caterer."

"It's almost eight," Emily says, checking her watch. She's been a dutiful maid of honor and her calm nature has helped keep Spencer calm… most of the time. "And we have to be out of here by nine. Dinner should have been served by now."

She hurries off towards the swinging white doors at the back of the ballroom, calling over her shoulder, "Mingle with your guests, Spencer. I've got this."

Spencer heaves a sigh and Peter grumbles something about getting another drink and takes off towards the sommelier, never able to keep up if things get emotional. She keeps her voice low when she comments, "We're missing a few guests, anyway. It's been an hour; I never thought they _actually_ wouldn't show."

"Never say never," Toby says and nods towards the main door as it opens and welcomes two new figures through.

Spencer glances over her shoulder and Toby can see the tension build within her body at the sight of his parents. She says nothing for a while and, honestly, he's kind of glad. They can suffer in silence together. Both Daniel and Heather stick like wallflowers by the door for a moment, as if they're expecting some sort of special greeting, and his eyes narrow slightly; they won't be getting one. This isn't about them. In a moment, Spencer glances back at him to gauge his reaction and he merely shrugs. He's glad his father is here, honestly. He's glad his father was able to realize how important of an occasion this is for him. But he also hasn't spoken to him yet. And before he can, Melissa comes over, toddler Vivian perched on one hip like an accessory, and is instantly looking for answers from her younger sister.

"Spencer, you didn't send me an advanced copy of your menu," She rolls her eyes. "I've got Vivian on a strict diet, you know."

"I know," Spencer drones, her eyes not leaving Toby's parents as they finally unstick themselves from the wall and begin to step closer to them. "You're almost as bad as Kourtney Kardashian."

"That's not funny," Melissa shakes her head. "I want her palate to be free of the dangers of high fructose corn syrup and red dye number 40. There's a real obesity epidemic here and I won't be contributing to that."

"How could you? She barely eats."

"She eats plenty, thank you," Melissa frowns. "I need to speak to the chef to make sure her meal is made with only organic, free-range ingredients and I need to do so before we sit down because if he doesn't have the certain foods I'm requesting then I'll have-"

"Jesus, Melissa. Can we not… Can we not _do_ this right now?" Spencer says and seems to shoot another pointed look in his direction.

"Oh," Melissa exclaims as though she's just realized the whole situation isn't about her. "Are those your parents, Toby?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. I've never met them," Melissa says. "What are they like?"

"They're… something," Toby finishes lamely and again, Spencer searches his eyes, but for what, he can't be sure. "Go take care of Viv. It's okay. I've got them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," He nods genuinely. "It's alright."

Reluctantly, she steps away from him and leads Melissa and her niece away from the scene as Daniel and Heather approach Toby, their faces deceptively neutral. Heather says nothing; likely, she's still furious that her stepson and his bride-to-be had declined to invite her daughter to their upcoming nuptials. Daniel, however, nods curtly in greeting. "Toby."

"Hi Dad," Toby says, trying to keep his voice even. He wonders if there will ever be a day when his father doesn't intimidate him. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting us," He replies. "I wasn't sure you'd want us here."

Toby blinks. He's not really sure what to say anymore. "Well… You're my family. Isn't that what this is all about?"

Heather scoffs the moment he says 'family'. Daniel shoots her a look and then says, "We're supposed to take care of this, aren't we? The rehearsal dinner?"

"Well," Toby shrugs. "Technically, I guess so, yeah. The bride's family gets the wedding and the groom's gets the rehearsal dinner and reception. But-"

"You never said anything," Daniel interrupts. "You didn't have us spend a dime."

"It's fine," Toby shakes his head. "I had the money saved, anyway, and Spencer helped and we-"

"Is Peter Hastings footing the bill for this wedding tomorrow?" Daniel then asks, saying the other man's name as though it were filthy and vile.

"Well, yeah, but that's just tradition and-"

"So what does that make us? Freeloaders?" Daniel exclaims and this is not a conversation Toby had ever expected having. "We have money too, Toby, and we easily could have contributed."

"I know. Look, it's not like we ever asked Peter to," Toby explains. "He just assumed from the beginning he was and we never wanted to insult him by asking him _not_ to-"

"So you just decided to insult me, instead?" Daniel shakes his head and Toby glances between his two parents, incredulous and at a loss for words.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Emily announces, clinking a fork against her flute of champagne. "Please take your seats! Dinner will be served momentarily!"

Toby turns away from his father because he honestly doesn't think he can stand being in his presence for another moment. Spencer's words from the night prior begin to echo in his ears; _I want him to stop being such a fucking prick for once_. He chuckles at the memory and finds himself agreeing. She takes her seat beside him and shoots him a questioning glance, one he returns with a small smile and shake of the head. Later. For now, they are to enjoy a fancy three-course meal and some idle chatter in the company of their family and closest friends. Halfway through dessert, Spencer nudges him and asks, "You've been _so_ quiet. Will you please just talk to me?"

"Of course," He says. "But I don't know what you want me to say."

"I'm _dying_ over here," She frowns. "What did he say? What's going on? How much money did he offer you to walk away from me tonight and never look back?"

He smirks and says, "Actually, it's funny you should mention money…"

Spencer's eyes widen and he can see legitimate panic begin to creep onto her features. "Wait… Wait, _what_?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. God," He shakes his head. "He's offended that we didn't ask him to pay for anything. You know, because your dad's got the wedding and, I don't know, I guess he wanted the reception or at least the rehearsal dinner."

"What… _What?_ " Spencer exclaims. "That's some bullshit. If we _had_ asked, he would've laughed in our faces."

" _I_ know that. _You_ know that," Toby says. "But I don't think he realizes that."

She rolls her eyes. "Is that why he's stewing over his chocolate mousse over there and glaring at my father like he's ready to commit a murder?"

"Probably."

Again, Emily clinks her fork against her glass and the room falls silent. "Hi everyone! As the night draws to a close, I just want to thank everyone for coming. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Emily Fields and I'm Spencer's maid of honor."

"Go Emily!" Hanna shrieks and elicits a few chuckles from the bridal party. Aria smirks, shakes her head, and removes the alcohol from her friend's grasp.

"You'll get to hear my full speech tomorrow at the wedding reception, so I won't go into too much detail, but I couldn't let the night go without toasting them at least once," Emily grins. "So I'd like you all to join me in raising a glass to the very couple we are all here to celebrate- Spencer and Toby."

Everyone joins in, their glasses high, and Emily says, "There is truly nothing more special than watching love blossom between your two best friends and I am so incredibly lucky that I got to witness it. They are impeccably in tune with one another- they _always_ have been- and they have a connection that I can't even understand, let alone describe. Of course, they've been through more hell than any couple ever _should_ , but all of the struggles they've endured have done nothing but make them stronger. I know that they have a long and happy life ahead of them together and that is exactly what they deserve. So, here's to Toby and Spencer on the eve of their wedding- may the many days before you be just as blissful as those you've already shared."

A chorus of agreement rings through the room as their guests applaud Emily's words and take identical sips of their drinks, in accord. Toby's heart does a somersault; he, of course, knows how he views his own relationship with Spencer, but it always amazes him to hear how others view it as well. Spencer embraces Emily in a tight hug of gratitude and the moment remains positive until Peter Hastings stands, his own glass raised, and maybe Toby's been spending too much time with Spencer, maybe he's adopted her way of thinking, but he's sure nothing good can come of this. He chances a glance at his own father and Daniel's glare is icy. Powerless to stop it, Toby can only watch the drama unfold.

Peter clears his throat and the room once more falls quiet. "Thank you, Emily, for those kind words. I, actually, would like to say a few words myself."

Beside him, Toby notes that the easy smile slips off of Spencer's face. Blindly, he reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. Peter says, "The first conversation I ever had with Toby was when he'd come to our house early one morning to speak with my daughter and I, ever so charmingly, told him to go away."

A few chuckles ring through the room and Peter grins. "I know what you're thinking- _of course_ you did. You're her father, right? And you wouldn't be wrong. In fact, no man is ever good enough for your little girl, and regardless of the fact that Spencer was then seventeen, she will remain my little girl until the day I die."

Toby feels the hand in his begin to shake a little and he grips hers a little more firmly. Peter continues, "But that, of course, isn't why I'd told him he wasn't welcome. I'm sure you all know that his reputation had preceded him at that point and I, being the obstinate man my wife has always referred to me as, had believed every word of it."

" _Peter_ ," Veronica chastises, glancing at her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, who did not seem to be enjoying his speech.

"Right, the point," Peter shakes his head. "The point is, when Spencer and Toby started dating way back when, I certainly hadn't ever been their biggest supporters. And now, looking back on it, I can't imagine why _anyone_ would be against them. So… I wanted to raise a glass to you, Toby, for taking such amazing care of my daughter, for always being there for her, for throwing yourself willingly into the pack of lions also known as the Hastings family because you love her so much. I want to apologize for my disapproval in the beginning and I want you to know, from here on out, you have my blessing."

Toby smiles and feels Spencer relax just a bit beside him. "Thank you."

"I want to raise a glass to you too, Spencer," Peter addresses his daughter next. "For becoming your own person, for accomplishing all you've wanted so far and- I never thought I'd say this- for ignoring us when we advised you against continuing your relationship with Toby. You saw something in him we didn't at first and that shows so much growth and maturity; something you didn't learn from us. I'm so glad you found someone to love and cherish and someone who loves and cherishes you and I'm immensely proud of you. You'll always be my little girl, Spencer, but if this is the woman you've become, I think I can definitely live with that."

There's amazement in her eyes at her father's words. "Thanks, Dad."

"And, finally," Peter concludes, turning his attention towards Toby's parents. "I want to raise a glass to you as well. I don't know either of you very well, but our families will be, come tomorrow, joined for life and therefore, that makes us family, too. So I wanted to extend a welcome to the newest members of our family and hope that we, too, can find a common ground, a sort of happiness, just as our son and daughter have. To Toby, to Spencer and to family."

"To Toby, to Spencer, and to family," The others agree and applause is soon to follow. Veronica turns to praise her husband and Spencer's still smiling, pleasantly surprised. Toby, however, cannot seem to take his eyes off of his father. Daniel's mouth is in firm line; not to be one-upped, he's standing, too, not a second later. Instinctively, Toby holds his breath.

"Well, that was certainly something, Peter. I'm not quite sure how to follow that."

Peter's eyes are still light, still warm with levity, and he waves this off. "You don't have to."

"No, at least let me contribute something, since you've taken care of everything else," Daniel replies coolly. "I appreciate your gesture, although it would've been nice to have at least _some_ say in the way things turned out here. We weren't approached for our opinion, nor were we even asked to make a monetary contribution towards this occasion."

"Please," Peter scoffs, chuckling slightly. "You think this is going the way _I_ wanted? It's all about compromise, Daniel; I got the club and Spencer got everything else."

Spencer starts beside him and Toby shoots her a look. _Don't_. _Not now_. Daniel frowns and says, "I just didn't want you to get the idea that we refused to contribute. Or that we can't. We would have- _could have_ \- if they'd asked."

"I'm not saying you wouldn't. Or couldn't."

A couple people snicker and Daniel's eyes grow icy. "Do you think you're some sort of hero here, Peter? You hated my son for years, believed the nasty rumors this town spread, and now can make amends by providing them with the wedding of their dreams? Swooping in with your wallet to save the day and save your name?"

"Listen, _everyone_ believed those rumors spread; it wasn't just me. I'm not saying that's a good thing, but let's not single anyone out here," Peter shoots back. "The point is, I was wrong and I'm admitting I was wrong. I've apologized to Toby and he's accepted, so why is this an issue with you? You being bent out of shape has nothing to do with my wallet."

The rest of the room goes silent. Spencer's pale beside him and Toby's heart is pounding wildly against his ribcage. This is the exact situation they had always feared. Daniel shakes his head. "It's an issue with me because the last thing I need is this phony man advertising becoming a brand new family when in reality, he's going to spend the rest of his days wondering if there's someone better out there for his daughter. Why would you think I want my son to become a part of that?"

"Look, I think of Toby as my own son, Daniel," Peter retorts and this is, honestly, news to Toby. He glances at Spencer to gauge her reaction, but she's still white as a sheet, her eyes wide. "Maybe you don't understand because you've never had a daughter-"

Heather scoffs audibly beside her husband, but everyone ignores it. Peter continues, undeterred. "- but it's not an easy thing, seeing her with a guy. It wasn't easy with Melissa, it wasn't easy with Spencer. But you get over it. You move on. If they're happy… you welcome this guy in with open arms. And it's their wedding, so I think we should try and mend fences, here, and leave the past in the past."

"And why should I do that? I don't need a pompous _asshole_ telling me-"

"Dad!" Toby shouts amidst gasps from the crowd.

"Toby, stay out of this," Daniel shakes his head. "This doesn't concern you."

"I'm not sure we really need _you_ calling the shots either," Peter replies, his face beginning to redden. "If you're going to be a jackass about it."

"Dad, please, stop," Spencer pleads, suddenly able to find her voice.

Peter shakes her off. "Spencer, not now."

"Oh, I'm the jackass?" Daniel smiles although there is no mirth in it. "So _I'm_ the one with the bastard offspring? The two children of the same age but from different mothers?"

"Dad, that was _completely_ uncalled for-"

"No," Peter replies, barely ruffled. "You're the one who went and married into a brand new family before your first wife was even cold."

" _Dad!_ Why the _hell_ are you bringing that up?"

"You know, I _knew_ there was a reason I advised him against this," Daniel shakes his head, pushing his chair back and standing, Heather following suit in dutiful accord. "Your family is _nothing_ but a bunch of petty, arrogant, drama-seeking lunatics and the _last_ thing I would ever support is my son's induction into it. Toby, I will never understand why _this_ is the life you chose for yourself and I _hate_ the person you've become; they person they've turned you into."

With that, they storm out of the ballroom, the door slamming shut behind them. For a moment, no one speaks. And then, Peter chuckles and says, "Well. That was something. More champagne, everyone?"

"Okay, thank you all for coming," Emily announces lamely as patrons begin to stand and gather their things, the night coming to an awkward end. "We'll see you all at the church tomorrow at noon, reception to follow."

"Dad, you ruined _everything_ ," Spencer shrieks and Peter immediately looks bewildered.

"Me? He's the one ranting and raving like a harebrained psychopath," Peter shakes his head. To Toby, he says, "I can't blame you for wanting out of _that_."

" _Dad!_ "

"Peter," Veronica chastises. "Honestly, get ahold of yourself."

And, with their bickering behind him, Toby stands and heads out of the ballroom also, in search of his father. He doesn't find them outside the door, in the lobby of the hotel, or on the pavement outside. They're just climbing into his father's car and Toby has to jog to catch up with them, a hand on the driver's door to stop them from leaving. Daniel harrumphs, " _What_?"

"Dad…" Toby trails off because even now, after all of that, he's at a loss for words. "I never knew you felt that way about them. About _all_ of them."

"Yeah, well, I may have gotten a little carried away, but they deserved it," Daniel shakes his head. "They're a bunch of snobs, the whole lot of them. They think they're better than everyone else but what they _don't_ understand is that Rosewood is a small town and we all know each other's business, here. And-"

"Dad, I don't give a shit what you think about the Hastings'," Toby cuts him off. "That's your opinion. Do what you want with it."

Daniel's anger seems to fade and he says, "Oh. Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is what you think of Spencer," Toby says. "And what you think of me because I'm marrying her."

Daniel shrugs. "She's a Hastings, too."

"Yeah, today," Toby replies. "But tomorrow, she'll be one of us. And I need you to come to terms with that. I need you to accept that she is the woman I'm marrying. _She_ is the woman I love. And you treating her like shit is not okay with me. It's not acceptable. She'll pretend it doesn't bother her or doesn't get to her, but it does. You're going to be her family, too. And you need to realize that."

"I have never treated her like shit," Daniel disagrees and Toby rolls his eyes.

"Because you've never spoken to her a day in your life," Toby says. "And do you think cussing out and calling her family all kinds of names is something she _likes_ to hear? Would you like that?"

He says nothing. Toby sighs and says, "I know you're disappointed in me. I know you don't approve of what I'm doing with my life. But-"

"I always expected… Well, I don't know what I expected," Daniel shakes his head. "But it wasn't this. It was _never_ this. And if you really want this, then… Do it. But you'll have to make some changes, too, if you think you're going to stay like this. If you think you can keep her."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toby exclaims. "I resent the phrase, but I've done a pretty good job of 'keeping her' for six years."

Daniel frowns and says, "Tell her I'm sorry for exploding. Apologize to her parents for me."

"Tell her yourself," Toby disagrees. "You're coming to the wedding tomorrow, aren't you?"

Daniel's silent for a long, long time and Toby's heart pounds loudly in his ears the entire time. "Yes."

He steps back and allows the car door to swing shut between them, watching as his father and stepmother drive away into the blackened night. He feels much like he had as a child, when he'd scratched his father's car with his bike and had gotten reamed out for it, despite being only seven years old. He'd bawled, terrified, in his mother's arms afterwards and he can still hear her soothing voice, every single word she'd said, to this day: _It isn't you Daddy's mad at, Toby. He's mad at himself. He let his anger out again and this time, it found you_. She always had a way of making his father seem guilty for what he'd done; which he was, horribly so, in fact. But Daniel had never apologized; not once. And now, as an adult, Toby has a hard time seeing what had brought his parents together. They were like fire and ice, polar opposites, and perhaps the old saying was true in that opposites attract, but Toby simply didn't believe it.

When he finds his way back into the lobby, Spencer's there, waiting. There are so many emotions on her face but she doesn't take even a second to acknowledge them. Instead, she steps closer and walks into his awaiting arms, both of them needing the solace that this simple gesture provides. And, in complete unison, they both profess, "I'm _so_ sorry about my dad."

"Yours? But mine was _so_ much worse than-"

"No, no, mine said all those _nasty_ things and then-"

"He can't just get _away_ with that all the time and he should-"

"Spencer," Toby shakes his head, smiling despite the situation. "Can we just agree to disagree?"

She smiles, too. "Sure."

"You were right last night, you know," Toby tells her. "They're both pricks."

He feels her body shake with laughter and she pulls away to ask, "Did you catch him?"

"Yeah," He nods. "He asked me to apologize on his behalf. I told him to do it himself."

"Is he coming tomorrow?"

"He says he is."

Spencer frowns a bit, saying, "I always knew he hated me."

"Spencer, he doesn't-"

"He does, though. He does," Spencer shakes her head. "It's fine, it's just… It sucks, you know? I mean, we _finally_ got my parents to come around and I don't know. I guess I just thought… When he _saw_ us, when he saw how happy we are… I don't know. Maybe it's stupid to think he'd realize he was wrong about us."

"It's not stupid," Toby says. "He _should_ have realized this. Never would I have ever thought that _your_ parents would be easier to impress than mine."

He's said this in an attempt to make her smile, but it just seems to make her even unhappier. "I don't know what to do about it. I don't… I'm not good at getting people to like me."

"That's not true," Toby disagrees. "I found it _very_ easy to like you."

"Okay, but that doesn't count."

"Are you kidding? It _so_ does," Toby shakes his head. "How could I _not_ like you? You're beautiful and brilliant and resilient and loyal and fiercely independent and incredibly strong, both physically _and_ mentally, and you've overcome _so_ much in your life and you've accomplished more than most twenty-four-year-olds and you swear like a trucker which I, personally, find pretty adorable and-"

"Okay, okay," Spencer interrupts, grinning. "Are you going to go on and on all night?"

"Do you want me to?" Toby shrugs. "Because I could. Honestly. There is not enough time in the _year_ for me to list all the reasons I love you."

She pulls him in for a kiss and then cuddles into him once more, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "We'll work on him. _I'll_ work on him. I promise."

"How?"

"I don't know yet," Toby says as the ballroom doors open again and their guests begin to filter out. "But you taught me that I can do anything if I try hard enough and believe in myself. So, that's what I'm going to do."

"Toby!" Peter calls and reluctantly, the lovers release their hold on one another. "Hey, I'm sorry about before. I definitely got too riled up and when I brought up your mother… That was completely uncalled for. And for that, I'm profoundly sorry."

Toby says, "It's okay."

"It's not," Peter disagrees. "I apologize. Truly, I do."

Toby nods. "Thank you."

From beside the elder Hastings, Veronica nods too, seemingly satisfied with his apology, and the two each take their turn embracing their daughter, bidding her goodnight before exiting the hotel. The three girls follow next, hesitant to approach their friends, and Aria says, breaking the ice, "So… Some dinner, huh?"

"Well, you know," Spencer says nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be a Hastings-Cavanaugh wedding without a healthy dose of drama."

"A _healthy_ dose?" Hanna exclaims. "Alright, then you've had your fill for the next month, at least."

Emily grins. "Seriously. That was _crazy_. Is it always like that?"

"It's the first time they've all actually been in the same room together," Toby confirms. "And now we know it was with good reason."

They share a chuckle and Aria nods towards the door. "You ready to go, Spence?"

"Yeah, just, give me a second?" She pleads with them and they nod, backing towards the door to give the couple their privacy. Turning to Toby, Spencer suddenly grows oddly quiet and she smiles shyly at him when she says, "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"Yeah," Toby nods, taking her hands in his. "Next time I see you, we'll both be at the altar."

She inhales a deep breath, her smile widening. "This is crazy. I can't believe we're actually here."

"Me either," Toby agrees. "All that stress, all that planning… And we're finally here. This is the last night you'll be my fiancée. Tomorrow night-"

"I'll be your wife," Spencer says and as usual, his heart flips over and over. "You'll be my husband."

"We're getting _married_ ," Toby shakes his head. "Tomorrow. This is all _so_ crazy."

"Spencer!" Aria calls again, nodding towards the door. "Come on!"

"I'm coming!" She shouts back and turns to press her lips against Toby's. "I love you. I love you so much and I can't wait until tomorrow."

"I love you too and believe me, neither can I," He grins and kisses her again. "I'll text you later. Can I do that? Is that against the rules?"

"I think it's okay," Spencer chuckles. "But no FaceTime. That counts as seeing each other."

"Okay," Toby says. "These rules seem made up, but I can play along."

"Oh my god," Hanna groans impatiently. "You're _literally_ going to see each other tomorrow. Let's _go!_ "

"Okay, okay!" Spencer shakes her head and kisses Toby chastely one last time. "I love you. Text me."

"I will," He agrees. "I love you too."

Toby watches her go, a nostalgic smile coming over his face, because he simply cannot fathom how supremely blessed he is to have her, and to have had her, for as long as he has.

And tomorrow begins the first day of the rest of their lives together. He simply cannot wait for the beautiful unknown.

* * *

Spencer wakes up sharply at six a.m., a little abrupt, a little disoriented, to the sound of thunder crashing in the early morning sky, rain pelting against the windows, and Aria and Hanna shrieking back and forth.

"This cannot be happening! This _cannot be happening!_ "

"There are worse things, Han, come on we can-"

"What could be worse? Do you see what it's doing out there? _Fucking pouring!_ And what does rain do to the ground? It makes it _muddy!_ And what color is Spencer's dress? _Fucking white!_ "

"Calm down! It's not _that_ big of a deal! I mean, it's not what we want, but we can still-"

"Not what we want? Her wedding is _outside!_ "

"I don't think it will be, anymore."

"Guys, _shut up_ ," A new voice, Emily's frazzled one, cuts in. "You're going to wake her up. She doesn't need to be up for another half hour."

"Yeah, and a lot could happen in a half hour, Han. The rain could clear up."

"Do you see those clouds? That shit is _not_ clearing up."

"Okay, well I have a _massive_ list of things I need to do and you screaming about it isn't helping me! I need to get into contact with the florist and with the venue so that we can make this outdoor wedding indoors and I need to steam the bridesmaid dresses and hair and makeup will be here in an hour but I'm wondering if it makes more sense to just meet them there-"

"Yeah, it does, because the second we step outside, everything's going to be undone."

"This isn't fair. This isn't _fucking_ fair. Why can't we have nice things? Oh, that's right, because we're in fucking _Rosewood_."

"Will you shut the fuck up? Seriously, stop bitching and help us get things in order."

At this, Spencer grins and climbs out of bed. Her three best friends; honestly, she doesn't know what she'd do without them. When she opens the bedroom door, all three of them stop what they're doing to glance in her direction, looks of guilt and sympathy on their faces. Aria shoots Hanna a glare and says, "I _told_ you that you were going to wake her up."

"No, it's okay," Spencer shakes her head. "It was more the thunder than anything else."

"I'm so sorry, Spencer." Emily laments. "There was nothing in the forecast that suggested it was going to rain today."

"It's alright. What are you going to do?" She shrugs. "So the weather isn't perfect. So what? We'll move it from the courtyard to the grand ballroom. It'll be… cozier."

Aria's eyes widen in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Wow," Emily nods. "Okay, well, I have a couple calls to make, then."

"What's up?"

"No, we just all expected you to freak out," She shrugs and nods towards the blonde. "Like _she_ did."

"I'm sorry!" Hanna exclaims. "God forbid I should want my best friend to have the _perfect_ wedding."

"It's alright," Spencer says. "It'll still be perfect."

They spend the rest of the early morning calling all of their vendors to be sure they know of the brand new change. Emily leaves before the other girls to get to the country club and make sure that all of the décor they were planning on setting up in the courtyard gets, instead, moved to the grand ballroom and, of course, she oversees all of it to be sure it's done correctly and up to Spencer's highest regard. By nine thirty, the entire bridal party is crammed into the tight space of one of the back rooms of the church, an old storage room for Sunday school supplies, and their hair and makeup stylists and photographers alike begin to mutter complaints under their breath about the lack of space. It certainly isn't how any of them had planned this morning to go, but due to the terrible weather conditions, they had to make do.

Spencer's phone buzzes in her lap a moment later and, unable to text back with wet nails, she merely grins in response. "It's Toby. He says he and the groomsmen are here."

"It must be so nice to be a guy," Aria comments, wincing as a stylist jams yet another hairpin into her scalp. "Just wake up, throw on a tuxedo and you're good to go."

"Yeah, but this is _fun_ ," Hanna says. "Don't tell me you're not enjoying yourself."

"I am, it's just… It seems like a lot of fanfare."

"Well, we want to look our best," Emily says. "Come on, Spencer's only going to do this _once_."

"You can say that again," Spencer chuckles.

"I know that this was an issue from day one," Hanna says next. "And that you really had to compromise with your parents on this, but if you had taken _my_ advice and gotten married somewhere warm or tropical-"

"Like you?" Spencer teases. "Three years later and I've _still_ not gotten over that sunburn."

"You are _so_ dramatic," Hanna rolls her eyes and Spencer scoffs.

"Hello, kettle? This is pot. You're black."

She reaches out to swat her and then, seeming to remember her nails, thinks against it. "I'm just saying. Despite the drama between my mother and father that weekend, it was pretty incredible. And, because it was destination, we only had whom we wanted there. Unlike you."

"Hey," Spencer warns. "We have a hundred and fifty people. That's nothing. The original guest list was at _least_ five hundred."

"Yeah," Aria chimes in. "And she and Toby certainly have plenty of drama on their own."

"Yeah, what was up with Toby's dad last night?" Emily asks next. "He was _so_ pissed."

"Well, I'm assuming it had something to do with us not inviting Jenna," Spencer says. "But honestly, it probably started way back when, when we started dating. He's never been a fan of us and I don't think he's going to start today."

"He _seriously_ expected you to invite Jenna? His son's _rapist_?" Hanna asks, her voice low. "That man's got a lot of nerve."

"He doesn't know about any of that," Spencer replies. "Toby's never felt comfortable telling him."

"Still. She's a monster."

"You're telling me."

"Hey," Emily notices suddenly, glancing around the room. "Alison didn't show."

The other girls stare at her and Aria says, "So?"

"So," Emily shrugs. "I expected she would."

"Please," Hanna waves this off. "Alison does what Alison wants. We can't go by her. Plus, Spencer only extended an invite to be polite. Didn't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry Em, I just…" Spencer trails off. "I don't totally _want_ her here. But I didn't want to suffer her wrath if she wasn't invited at all."

Emily purses her lips. "Well that makes sense. And there's still the ceremony and the reception. Maybe she'll turn up."

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe."

It's just after eleven when Melissa and Veronica burst into the room, their hair and makeup neatly done, exclaiming, "Less than an hour now! Are you ready?"

Spencer's just finished swiping a mascara brush across her lashes- the stylist had done a slipshod job, after all- when she nods. "Yeah. I think so."

Melissa cocks her head to the side, frowning. "You're getting married in _that_?"

Spencer glances down and realizes she has less than hour until she walks down the aisle and she's still wearing her t-shirt and pajama pants. "Well… No."

"Well, let's go! Let's get that dress on!"

Very, very carefully, Spencer stretches the neck of her t-shirt up and over her brand new hairstyle, wary to even slightly nudge it despite the fact that the stylist, earlier, had emptied an entire can of hairspray onto her scalp. Surely, it isn't going anywhere. She slips out of her lounge pants, too, and into wedding lingerie, Hanna grinning at her the whole time- she'd picked it out. The garter slides easily over her thigh and then the dress comes next, form-fitting around the middle and a bit looser in the skirt, beading and crystals on the bodice, lace up the back. Taking Hanna's advice, she'd gone strapless, and she's glad she had, because this dress is too perfect for words. When she steps back out into full view of her bridesmaids, mother and sister, everyone is in awe of her beauty. It makes her feel strangely self-conscious and she wishes everyone would stop staring. It's beginning to make her feel incredibly nervous.

Veronica affixes the veil to her crown and allows it to cascade down her back. Twenty minutes or so, now, until show time. She kisses her cheek in farewell, saying, "You look absolutely beautiful and I can't wait to see you out there. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom," Spencer manages to utter over her furiously beating heart.

"Spencer!" Melissa shrieks next in an over the top manner. She embraces her sister quickly before following their mother out of the room. "You look so incredible I can hardly stand it."

"Thanks, Melissa."

And soon, as everyone begins to take their places, it's only the four of them left behind. Aria asks, "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Spencer admits. "I don't know why."

"It's normal," Hanna tells her. "Remember me? I was a wreck."

"I thought you were going to have a heart attack, honestly," Emily agrees. "You were a mess."

"But this is it," Aria grins. "Are you excited, too, at least?"

"Of course," Spencer nods, smiling. "This is going to be the best day of my life."

They all nod their agreement, collect her in a group hug and then step out of the room, too. Spencer's left alone with her thoughts for only a moment and she already feels like she's going to pass out. Somewhere, from wherever he is, he must sense this, because her phone jingles to life on the table before her; there's a text reading: _I love you. I'll see you out there_.

Suddenly, all is right with the world. She feels her anxiety and her stress begin to fade away and a nervous sort of excitement takes their place instead. She doesn't have the time to text back before there's a knock on her door and her father pokes his head in. "Spence? Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods confidently. "Yeah, I'm ready."

He smiles at her, eyes creasing at the edges. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you, Dad," Spencer exhales. "Should we go?"

Peter offers her his arm, saying, "Ready when you are."

They step out of the room, the music crescendos, and Spencer's inhaling deep breaths, trying to ignore how the hand on her father's arm is shaking. The other is clasped tightly around her bouquet of tulips (they'd ordered calla lilies and Emily had nearly torn the florist's head off as she unveiled the wrong flowers) and she mentally prepares herself for the sight before her as they round the corner. Petals adorn the red-carpeted aisle, patrons on either side standing happily from their pews, and the church has been magnificently transformed into a whimsical room of happiness and light. As they edge closer to the altar, Spencer spots her mother already wiping tears from her eyes, her sister and bridesmaids on one side, the groomsmen on the other and, from the very front pew on the right side, Toby's parents, standing with polite smiles on both their faces. This does nothing but fuel a bit of dread into her veins, which mixes sinfully with all the other emotions she's feeling; surprise, excitement, apprehension, anticipation, and about a million other things, all at once.

Until she finally spots Toby, meets his eyes, and can process only one- bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Peter kisses her cheek and lets her go and Spencer comes to stand right in front of her husband-to-be, joining hands with his. The anxiety, the nerves, the stress- they all ebb away. For he is looking back at her with the widest grin she's ever seen, with so much love in his eyes, and she knows everything's going to be all right. After all, with him, it always is.

Pastor Ted is officiating and he grins at both of them before he begins. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a special thing; in fact, it takes a great amount of love and a great amount of respect for a couple to reach the point where they're ready to marry. Lao Tzu once said, 'Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage' and, if you know Spencer and Toby and know _half_ of the things they've been through as a couple, you'll know they're easily one of the strongest and most courageous couples this world has seen."

A few chuckles and a small chorus of agreement rings throughout the church. Spencer grins at this notion and Toby squeezes her hands, joy in his eyes. Ted says, "But I could stand up here and quote a bunch of dead guys until I'm blue in the face and that _still_ wouldn't quite allow you to grasp the special connection that Toby and Spencer share. The love that has bloomed between them as teenagers has only grown and flourished with time and those who were lucky enough to witness it then are now able to reap the benefits of seeing this followed through with marriage. So, I could easily give you another profound quote about love and marriage, but that won't quite capture what Spencer and Toby have. And who better to tell you what's between them than Spencer and Toby themselves? They have chosen to write their own wedding vows and I think, here and now, are the best place to hear them. Toby?"

Toby inhales a deep breath and the hands that had been so steady and warm in her own have begun shaking. "Spencer… It has taken me weeks to be able to put into words how much you mean to me. From the moment you stepped onto my front porch that day, with your determined, firecracker, no-nonsense personality, you captivated my mind, my soul and my heart. You somehow managed to bring me out of my shell, out of my sorry, despaired existence, and into a world with you, where I was able to find happiness, validation and, most importantly, love. You have always been and continue to be the sun upon my darkest days, my escape when things get tough and the single most important person in my life. You're the love of my life, my soul mate, and my very best friend. I promise to love and to cherish you from now until the end of our days. I promise to care for you when you're sick and hold you when you're upset. I promise to keep you safe and protected and happy. And most of all, I promise you forever, I promise you a life full of new experiences, I promise you that we'll always be together. Always."

Spencer's positive there are tears streaming down her face and she is proven right a second later when he lets go of one of her hands to swipe them away. She hasn't even pulled herself together yet when Ted asks, "Spencer?"

"Oh God. Oh God, how do I follow _that_?" Spencer blurts out and to her relief, a few people, including Toby, chuckle. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just… I need a second."

Ted smirks. "Take your time."

She, too, swipes underneath her eyes, wary of her makeup and silently thanking the stylist for using waterproof mascara. "Toby… I, like you, had a terribly hard time coming up with a way to put what we have into words, because to me at least, it's always been indescribable. I didn't think there were enough words in the English language for me to tell you how grateful I am for all you've done for me or how grateful I am to have you in my life not only as my best friend, but also as my lover, my companion. When I think about what you and I have gone through together, I know now that you and I can overcome anything because you have always been my rock, my shoulder to cry on and my strongest supporter. You helped me through some of the toughest times in my life, believed in me until I could believe in myself, and showed me the positives in a world where so much was wrong. You inspire me to become a better person each and every day and I'm grateful for the incredible impact you've had on my life just by sticking with me. I promise you that we will never lose our spark, that I'll stand by you through everything, and that I'll love and care for you forever. You are, always have been and always will be, my safe place to land."

Toby's eyes are filled with tears too, now, and Spencer knows in this, they are the same. Ted grins at each of them, before looking out on a crowd in which several people are dabbing at their eyes. "I always knew they wouldn't disappoint. Now that you've heard their words, I must ask, if anyone can share a just cause as to why these two should not be married, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

An echoing silence follows and Ted chuckles the tiniest bit. "I didn't think so. May I have the rings?"

Sparkling on a red velvet pillow, Ted hands the wedding bands to each one of them, saying, "Take these rings as a symbol of your unity, your love and your undying devotion to one another. Toby, place this ring on Spencer's finger and say, 'With this ring, I thee wed'."

"With this ring," He reaches out and slides the band onto her fourth finger, right beside her engagement ring. "I thee wed."

"Spencer, place this ring on Toby's finger and say, 'With this ring, I thee wed'."

Her hands are shaking still and she momentarily panics she's going to drop this ring because her grip is so terrible right now. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"By the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania," Ted beams. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!"

A peal of raucous applause resounds throughout the entire church, their guests cheering and leaping to their feet in pure joy and excitement. The orchestra starts up again, playing lively tunes, and Caleb's whistling to their left, the girls making a rowdy ruckus to their right. Spencer hears none of this, honestly. She's much too wrapped up, quite literally speaking, in Toby's arms. His lips are warm and purposeful on her own and she reaches up, frames his face in her hands, and pulls him closer and closer. This is love in its purest form. This is eternal happiness, something she'd always hoped to achieve. This is the beginning of the rest of their lives and here she is, kissing the man she loves most in this world over and over and this man has been by her side for years and years. This man is now her _husband_. She knows it's true and Ted's announced it to the entire congregation, but it's going to take some getting used to, for sure.

When the need to breathe becomes insatiable, they pull apart, grin madly at one another, and then process, hand in hand, down the aisle. The entire bridal party follows behind, as cocktail hour has begun upon arrival at the reception, and, much to their chagrin, the rain hasn't let up in the slightest. Spencer throws a cautionary glance at the bottom of her gown, at the train that she and Aria spent the better half of an hour pinning up, before everyone seems to jump into action all at once. Caleb and Hanna reach for oversized umbrellas as Emily calls for the limos to come around to the front of the church and when they do, the driver tosses the door open and Toby scoops Spencer, bridal style. She's laughing the entire time, even after he deposits her into the backseat of the limo, but with his ministrations and their friends' quick thinking and umbrella work, she doesn't get a single droplet of rain on her. The driver congratulates them before driving off towards the country club and neither Spencer nor Toby can keep the smile off their faces. On one side of the club, in the banquet hall, their cocktail hour begins. On the other side, however, is an endless stream of photographs with their wedding photographer in an attempt to capture the moment despite the dreary weather.

Upon the conclusion of their pictures, the emcee ensures all guests are seated before announcing the couple's imminent arrival. And once the rest of the bridal party and family have been announced, he shouts excitedly, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to introduce to you- for the _first_ time- Mr. and Mrs. Toby and Spencer Cavanaugh!"

It makes her heart swell three times its normal size. _Spencer Cavanaugh_. How long has she waited, desperately begged, to be anyone else but Spencer Hastings? How much has she wanted, desperately pleaded, to be with Toby for the rest of her life? It had seemed nearly impossible in their worst moments and utterly too far out of reach in their best and yet, here they are. He twirls her onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife and Spencer honestly feels like she's flying. But he comes with a warning, "I'm mostly likely going to step on you. Or make a fool out of myself in front of all our friends and family."

"You are _not_ ," Spencer disagrees. "You say this every time we have the opportunity to dance."

"I hate dancing. I'm not good at it."

"I think you sell yourself short," Spencer disagrees. "Emily's said that you've got some serious moves and I'm offended that I've never seen them."

"And Emily's basing this on what?"

"Homecoming."

" _Homecoming?_ " He exclaims. "When you were juniors? When you hated me and everyone else thought I was a freak?"

She shoots him a pointed look. "Don't bring that up at our wedding."

" _You_ brought it up, remember?" Toby says and she frowns, knowing he's right. "I hate to break it to you, but Emily's pulling your leg."

"Is she? She said your dancing reminded her of a wind-up toy gone rogue," Spencer jests. "Which, I have to say, sounds highly entertaining and incredibly cute."

Toby chuckles. "Oh God. All the women in my life are against me."

"Excuse me? _All_ the women?" Spencer teases. "As of an hour ago, you are officially off the market. I better be the only one."

"Spencer," He grins. "You have _always_ been the only one."

She grins, too, and reaches upward to place a chaste kiss on his lips, swaying on the spot. When the song ends and everyone erupts into applause, the emcee hands over the microphone and Spencer announces, "Hi everyone! Toby and I would like to take the time, now, to thank each and every one of you for coming out here today to celebrate with us. I know this wedding didn't exactly turn out like _anyone_ had planned and the weather certainly isn't celebratory, but we aren't going to let it rain on our parade- literally. We're grateful for all the love and support that you've given us throughout the years and also by attending our wedding today. Hopefully you all have a wonderful time!"

"Thank you, once again, for coming and for taking part in our special occasion," Toby adds once she's passed the microphone to him. "And now, without further ado, it's time to eat!"

A few cheers emit at this and the couple chuckles, heading for their seats at the head table. Of course, in the designing of this reception, they had chosen to incorporate subtle hints from Scrabble, their favorite game and the one that had brought them together; instead of table numbers, each table had instead a table _letter_ with the point value in the bottom and, instead of place cards with the guests' names on them, each name was instead spelled out with Scrabble tiles on the wooden sleeve above their plates. Both of Spencer's parents say a blessing over the sacred meal as the appetizer course is served and then, the sound of the band playing a soft, soothing tune accompanies the scraping of forks on plates and the light conversation.

Between the first and second course, Caleb taps his champagne glass and the room quiets. "Hi, if I could have everyone's attention for just a moment? Thank you. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Caleb Rivers and I'm the best man. Actually, it's funny, a few years ago, at my wedding, Toby was _my_ best man, so it's like the roles have been reversed, here. And Toby was a phenomenal best man; I mean he did everything you'd want a best man to do. He listened to me vent and helped lighten the stress load and organized a killer bachelor party. When it came time for the wedding, he crafted this beautifully heartwarming speech that had you laughing one minute and reaching for a tissue the next. My wife, Hanna, said that it was the most amazing speech she'd ever heard and I agreed. Unfortunately, Toby, I'm a married man now, so I haven't had the time to do all that. You'll understand that in like a week or two."

Hanna, from beside him, rolls her eyes, but the rest of the room shares in a round of laughter. "No, in all honesty, I had no problem coming up with a speech for Toby and Spencer. It was easy; they've both been good friends of mine since we were stupid teenagers who thought we knew everything. Toby just has this incredibly easygoing, relaxed, approachable way about him that just kind of makes you feel like everything's going to be alright; that no problem is ever too big or too trivial to address and to conquer. Spencer's kind of the opposite but, trust me, I mean that in the best way possible. She's the fiercest competitor I have ever known, she's extremely intelligent, and she will fight tooth and nail for what she believes in. And to know these two as a couple is kind of an awesome thing because when you look at them, they're polar opposites and they probably shouldn't work. But they do. They do because they have a connection that is more than you or I could ever comprehend and they have more in common than you can ever notice just by glancing at them. For those they care about, they'll do just about anything; something I've learned personally, firsthand. Their capacity to love others and to love one another is one of the most incredible things I've ever witnessed in my life. I have no doubt that these two will share a lifetime of happy memories together and, honestly, we're all lucky that we're able to be here to witness it. Spencer, Toby? We're along for the ride. Let's make it a good one, shall we? Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," Toby tells him and Spencer nods her agreement as the applause dies down and everyone sips their drinks.

And it's just after the third course when Emily's turn arises. She, too, taps at her glass and once again, the room quiets. "Hi everyone! Thank you so much for being here today! My name is Emily Fields and I'm the maid of honor. That beautiful, blushing bride over there is one of my best friends and, oddly enough, so is her charming, wonderful husband. I've known Spencer since middle school, when we fell into the same crowd, and it's true, what Caleb said, about her being a fierce competitor; it was something I'd learned about her from the very beginning. It didn't take much to set her off, but it did take _a lot_ to talk her down from flying off the handle, because she was, and is still, incredibly protective of those she loves. It's one of the qualities I love most about her; I always knew that when I went to Spencer with a problem, it was getting handled, one way or another! And, funnily enough, Toby is very similar. He was the very first person I ever confided in, the person who gave me the courage to accept and be who I am, the one person who never judged me for a single decision, good or otherwise, I made throughout my life. He talked me through it, helped me with anything I needed, and was- and _is_ \- always there for me in times of struggle."

"But enough about me- this is about them. And I thought long and hard about a good story to share when I first sat down to write this speech and it came to me almost instantly," Emily continues. "I had been friends with Toby long before Spencer even considered giving him the time of day. When she had, she'd gone to tutor him in French and the rest is history, right? We all know the story and I won't bore you with the details a second time. I would like, however, to tell you about the details that transpired directly after their first meeting. She'd come over to my house in a sort of dazed, trance-like state and I will never forget what she said when I asked her how their tutoring session had gone. _He's different_. Those were her exact words; _he's different than what I thought he would be_. I always found that to be kind of funny, right? Because _of course_ he was; she'd gone into the meeting thinking he was a monster, which, anyone who knows him will know Toby is the exact _opposite_ of that. But it's what she said after that always stuck with me; _there's something about him that's… I don't know_. Speechless. He'd left her speechless. And I'm sure those of you who know Spencer know that that's not really an easy thing to do."

The room joins in Emily's laughter and Spencer rolls her eyes. "Just kidding, Spence. But it's something that I always found so profoundly meaningful. I should've suspected, even then, that they would eventually grow closer and their feelings for one another would turn romantic. I should've suspected then that they would soon become the other's biggest fan, fiercest protector and number one priority. I should've suspected then that they would be destined for a love so grand, it spanned ages and lasted through the many tests life threw their way. I didn't, not at first, but it didn't take long to realize it. I've said it before; watching love blossom between your two best friends is one of the most incredible experiences in the world. To this day, Toby remains the question that even Spencer Hastings can't answer. And, honestly, he's been leaving her speechless ever since. So, here's to the bride and groom. If ever there was a couple destined for greatness, made for one another, it's Toby and Spencer. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Thank you."

Spencer stands to embrace her best friend in a form of thanks and Toby, after their moment, follows her lead. She's honestly never felt more loved in all her life. When the meal is finished and the plates have been cleared away, the band strikes up a rousing good time and everyone flocks to the dance floor to get this party started. Toby and Spencer begin to make the rounds to personally thank each one of their guests for coming and pause for just a moment for the bouquet toss, the garter toss and the cutting of their beautiful cake. They feed each other a bite as lovingly as they can, but as the cake is usually a sign that it's okay to leave after, they never finish their slices; they must, instead, continue to make the rounds. Once everyone's in a rousing round of the Cupid Shuffle, Spencer and Toby spot his parents at the far side of the room, just slipping into their coats and shaking out their umbrellas. Unknowingly, the newlyweds had been putting off speaking to them all evening.

"Dad," Toby says the moment they approach, Spencer's hand tightly clasped in one of his own. "You're leaving?"

"Love to stay longer, but we've got an early morning tomorrow," Daniel replies. "Got to be at the airport by six."

"Oh, okay," Toby says lamely and Spencer says nothing beside him. She can already guess where they're going. "Well… We wanted to thank you for coming."

Heather is silent; she merely purses her lips in response. Daniel nods and says, "It was a nice wedding. Cake was to die for."

She's just glanced over her shoulder at the other guests when Daniel pulls her attention back, the first words he's ever spoken directly to her. "Listen, Spencer, I… I'm sorry about the way I acted last night. It was rude and uncalled for."

Her eyes widen and she nods too quickly. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks."

Daniel nods curtly and offers her a tight-lipped, "Congratulations."

Again, she can do nothing but stare at him. "Thank you."

They turn to go with no more words said and Spencer turns to her husband, her voice low. "Good God, that's like getting approval from the President."

Toby smirks. "Come on. Let's get back."

They join the rest of their guests for the final dance and the emcee announces their exit. With friends and family on either side, sparklers, ribbons and confetti erupting from their hands, Spencer and Toby make their grand exit out of the club and into that old faithful tan Chevy truck, decorated with streamers and paint exclaiming, 'Just Married!' Everyone waves as they pull away from the scene and Spencer watches from the side view mirror as they become smaller and smaller with distance. She watches as Toby passes the middle of the town and then the loft and confusion knits her brow. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Toby grins and there's mischief in his eyes.

The rain's let up and left the air muggy and humid, but they don't mind. Toby's truck weaves in and out of traffic, towards the edge of town, and climbs up the hill past Rosewood. It doesn't take Spencer long to figure out where they're headed. He parks right beside that deep cerulean 'Welcome to Rosewood' sign, cuts the engine and glances out over the town until his headlights dim and fade to black. Spencer smiles, full of nostalgia, and pushes the passenger door open, lifting the hem of her dress so it doesn't dangle in the damp sod and cautiously avoiding the puddles here and there until she reaches the overlook. The lights twinkle red and green and white, the town lit up like a Christmas tree, and a lifetime has passed since they'd been back here, but it still feels the same. Toby comes to stand beside her a moment later and, wordlessly, he slips an arm around her waist as she comes to lean quite comfortably against him.

"You know, you were right," Spencer comments after a moment. "It's really _not_ so bad from up here. It honestly just looks like a town."

"Yeah, well, that's all it is," Toby echoes her sentiment. "Isn't that what you told me?"

"I was a naïve little girl," Spencer says. "I hadn't even seen the horrors yet, at that point."

"That life's far behind us." Toby replies. "And even though we had different plans, I'm glad we got married here."

"Me too. Just because we went through some really rough times doesn't mean we didn't have great ones," Spencer tells him. "And none of those awful things take away from the fact that this is our hometown and this is what ultimately brought us together in the first place."

Toby nods his agreement and an uncharacteristically cool breeze threads through the air. Spencer then says, "Even though the caterer was late and the florist brought the wrong flowers and our fathers made fools of themselves last night… Today was everything I ever hoped it would be. It was perfect."

"It was," Toby concurs. "But everyday with you always is."

Spencer glances at him, mirth in her eyes. "Are you going to say cheesy shit like that for the rest of our lives?"

"You better believe it," Toby grins. "You are in for a lifetime of cheesy shit, Spencer Hastings, so you better get used to it now."

"Spencer Hastings?" She questions. "Don't you mean Spencer Cavanaugh?"

"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "We haven't really talked about it. You don't _have_ to change your name, you know. You're all about female empowerment and everything and I respect that."

"I want to," She insists. "I told you, I'm done being a Hastings."

"Well, I'm not going to complain about that."

"I didn't think you would."

He grins and kisses her, soft and slow. "I love you so much, Mrs. Cavanaugh."

"I love _you_ , Mr. Cavanaugh," Spencer beams. "I think this is the start of a wonderfully glorious life together."

"Spencer," Toby replies, his blue eyes sparkling. "I wholesomely agree."


	21. lean on me when you're not strong

**Um hi everyone. So sorry I've been MIA for basically a month. I didn't have any ideas- I'm not going to lie to you. But I have a couple now! This chapter is super, super random and not the best thing I've ever written, but at least no one died/got bitten by a zombie/became a werewolf, so... We're making progress, right? :P I've always told you I have no idea what the longevity of this story is going to be, but lately I've been thinking about 25 chapters or so. I'm running real low here and kind of getting sick of myself. Are you sick of me yet? Honesty is the best policy, guys. :D**

 **Anyway, this chapter is kind of gross and I'm sorry. Also, we will address Toby's dilemma in a chapter to come- I'm literally writing it as we speak. The title comes from the song "Lean on Me" by Bill Withers and I'm sorry if this is disgusting and terrible. I still love you. I promise this isn't punishment for something. :P**

* * *

lean on me when you're not strong

The tension in their bedroom is eating them alive.

Most of the time, their arguments end up spiraling so far out of their control, they can't ever remember what had instigated it in the first place. That isn't the case, this time. It's a humid, muggy evening in late August, nearing Labor Day and the first day of school for all three of their children, and it seems the intense, late summer heat had done nothing but add fuel to the fire. The truth is, they don't fight very often and certainly not as much as they had when they were younger, when their relationship had been a minefield of half-truths and blatant omissions of honesty. Sure, there are the petty disagreements here and there and the bickering like the old married couple they are, but full, blown-out shouting matches are few and far between. But when they do appear, it is always because of something that had happened with one of their families.

Spencer's always believed that her relationship with Toby would be completely perfect if their families didn't interfere and she's pretty sure she's right. The last major argument they'd had had happened after a weekend at a ski resort in the Poconos with Wren and Melissa during the winter, the opposing couple of course doing everything in their power to one-up their counterparts. Honestly, that whole weekend is still kind of a blur- Grace had spent most of it flirting with her ski instructor, Lilly had severely burned her tongue on hot chocolate and Henry had nearly broken his collarbone when he took a tumble off of the ski lift much too early- but she does remember getting into a heated argument with her husband over spending obligatory time with her family, something neither of them enjoys but only one of them insists upon. Today has been no different; with the kids' summer activities winding to a close, camps ending and back to school shopping beginning, Daniel Cavanaugh had decided this would be a perfect time to invite his extended family for an end-of-summer barbecue, and, like fools, they'd accepted his invite.

It turns out, they're the only ones who show up. When they arrive in Rosewood, Daniel is the only one home and, with a somber face, he begins to tell Toby and Spencer all about how Heather had had to flock to Jenna's aid a hundred miles away, because she's just suffered a miscarriage. Neither Spencer nor Toby had even known she'd been pregnant, or even seeing anyone seriously to be honest, but Daniel cannot stop talking about how it's such a tragic, tragic event, how thrilled he was to become a grandparent again, and why do bad things always happen to such good, wholesome people? He goes on and on about how Jenna's had such a hard life, such a difficult past, such an unsure future despite all she's overcome, and all throughout dinner, Spencer's kids are quiet and Toby nods monotonously in all the right places and she seriously contemplates jamming her steak knife into her own eye.

They hadn't even crossed the threshold of their own home before they began arguing.

"Spencer, why do you _always_ do this?" Toby had shouted angrily at her. "Why do you _care_ so much? Why does this bother you every single time when it's _always_ how he's been?"

"That's exactly it!" She had retaliated. "It's always how he's been! And it shouldn't be! You've been getting along even better lately so I guess I just assumed-"

"You assumed what? That he'd magically become the loving, caring, doting father everyone deserves?"

"Forgive me for trying to see the good in people for once- something you say I'm _incapable_ of doing!"

"No, you're just incapable of seeing the good in people who _actually_ have some good left. You only see it in the hopeless cases- like my father."

"Well I'm sorry. I'm sorry I want people to treat you nicely. I'm sorry I want your father to actually _be a father_ and not only to Jenna and not only when it's convenient for him!"

"I should've known this whole thing was about her."

" _How does this not bother you?_ "

"Because I _do not_ care about Jenna or anything that goes on with her. I'm over it."

"But it doesn't bother you that your father treats her like his own blood and can't grant you the same courtesy? It doesn't bother you that he hurts for her but can't hurt for you? It doesn't bother you that he still thinks she's this perfect princess who can do no wrong when you are _living proof_ that she's the opposite?"

And that's the last thing either of them had said. She knows she's gone too far with that one and Toby won't even look at her, now. What's worse is that he's leaving for a job in Allentown for five days and the last thing she wants is for things to be like this between them. He's folding clothes and shoving them roughly into a duffle bag on their bed and she has rearranged the shoes on the floor of her walk-in closet about eight times now, just begging him silently to say something, to yell back, or at least _look_ at her. She feels so incredibly, supremely awful right now and the last thing she wants is for him to go away angry. Or, to be honest, go away at all. It's a hard thing, honestly; Spencer has no particular like for Daniel Cavanaugh. Most times she cannot _stand_ the man, in fact. And it isn't like she wishes ill for Jenna Marshall, either. She, like Toby, doesn't really care one way or another what happens to her. But she, unlike Daniel, knows the pain Jenna had caused Toby and it frustrates and infuriates her that, because Daniel is still none-the-wiser, he thinks the sun still shines out of his stepdaughter's ass. It's not right. It drives her insane. And if Toby's waiting for her to be okay with this, then he's going to be waiting a _long_ time.

After a long period of silence, Toby pauses at the dresser and concludes, without looking at her, "You think I should tell him what Jenna's done to me."

"I think that you shouldn't do anything you aren't ready for," Spencer says, trying desperately to choose her words more carefully. "But I think that could help."

"Help what?" Toby asks bitterly. "Help him see me as more of a freak? Help him see me as this victim who couldn't stop something terrible from happening? Or help him call me a liar who's just seeking attention, trying to take tragedy away from Jenna?"

"No! I obviously don't want any of those things, but I don't think he'll-"

"Spencer, I've known him my whole life so forgive me if I think I know him better than you do."

There's a knock on their bedroom door and both of them glance up at their six-year-old, who is clad in pajamas, his hair still damp from a shower. "Daddy? Are you leaving yet?"

"Trying to get rid of me, Hen?" Toby teases and Spencer doesn't know how he does that. He's completely flipped a switch and he's the happy, loving father their children have always known. She, however, still feels completely miserable.

"No I just wanted to say bye," Henry says and steps in a bit closer, throwing a cautionary glance at his mother. "Mommy, we can still FaceTime him, right? You promised."

"Sure," She manages a small smile. "Every night."

"Well, I look forward to that," Toby says and scoops Henry into his arms. "Come on, little man. I'll read you a story before I go."

In the hallway, they run, quite literally, into Grace, who has a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth and is finger combing her wet hair. Toby's quick to apologize, "I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't see you there."

"That's okay," She says, her words muffled by spearmint foam. "I was just coming to find you. I wanted to see you before you left."

Spencer finds herself drifting into the hallway, observing, Toby's packed bag at her feet. She loves watching her husband interact with their children and by now, Henry has somehow clambered his way onto Toby's back, his arms loosely dangled around his father's neck, and Toby's grinning at Grace's lack of, well, grace. "Please spit before you do. I have plenty of toothpaste; I don't need any of yours."

Grace rolls her eyes and Spencer is, once again, struck by how alike they are. At fourteen, she and her mother are basically twins in both looks and mannerisms. "Come find me when you're done with Henry."

"Will do," Toby agrees. "And what about your sister?"

"Yeah," Spencer speaks up. "Where's Lilly?"

"I don't know," Grace shrugs and steps back into the bathroom, the sound of running water then emanating into the hall.

"She's already sleeping," Henry says. "I don't know why. It's still early."

"That's strange," Spencer comments and eyes the closed bedroom door behind which her middle child lies slumbering. "She's been quiet all night. I mean, she's always quiet, but-"

" _Daddy_ ," Henry whines from his father's shoulders. "Can we please read my story now?"

"Yes, yes, let's go," Toby says, stomping towards Henry's bedroom and, with a roar, saying, "Those dinosaurs aren't going to read about themselves!"

"No!" Henry shrieks. "I want the one about the fighter pilots!"

"Oh. Well then, in that case," Toby replies, peeling Henry off of his back and fashioning him into a human airplane, zooming towards the bedroom. " _Coming in for a landing!_ "

Henry's boisterous giggle brings a smile to Spencer's face, but at the same time, it makes her profoundly sad. She knows, without a doubt, that Daniel Cavanaugh has never been that kind of father for Toby. In fact, she couldn't even picture, not if she tried, the elder Cavanaugh reading his son a bedtime story or covering an injury with a Band-Aid and kisses or even just hugging and kissing him each day and each night. And this, after all, is what it's all about. He's never been the kind of father figure that Toby's needed and deserved his entire life and this is the root of the problem; this is what they keep coming back to. It's been years now and they truly are mending fences, but if they don't ever discuss the Jenna factor, Toby and Daniel will never heal and will never move on.

And Spencer will continue to push this and it will continue to cause argument after argument with her husband.

It's a bit later than he'd planned on leaving when he finally does come downstairs and she's sure he won't get there until after midnight at this point. He says, "Henry was right. Lilly was passed out when I went in there. We must've exhausted her."

"Must've," Spencer says quietly and hands him his bag as he grabs his keys off of the hook. "It's late, now. Are you sure you don't want to just stay one more night?"

"I have to be on site first thing tomorrow or else I would," Toby tells her. "It's alright. It's not too bad a drive and there won't be any traffic, now."

She nods. "Will you be careful?"

"Always am."

"And call me the second you get there?"

"Always do."

There's a slight, awkward pause before she breaks down. "I don't want you to leave when we're in the middle of a fight. What if something happens and you're still mad at me and it's the-"

"Hey, whoa, nothing's going to happen," Toby shakes his head, ending her rambling. "And I'm not mad at you. Believe me, I recognize that this is coming from a place of concern. I just… I don't know, Spence. It's complicated. This whole thing has always been complicated."

"I love you," She professes and his expression softens. "I just want what's best for you."

"I know you do. I know." Toby nods and tosses the bag aside, pulling her in for an embrace. "I love you, too."

When he pulls back, he presses a chaste kiss to her lips and says, "We'll talk about this when I get back. It's okay. We'll figure it out."

She nods wordlessly and he slings his bag over his shoulder and steps out of the front door.

Spencer walks him to the truck and kisses him once more before he goes. It still feels, even after all this time, like he's taking a piece of her with him.

* * *

She never sleeps very well when Toby's away. But tonight, it isn't his absence that's kept her awake.

A little after three a.m., her eyes fly open and slowly adjust to the darkened bedroom. She's alone in their great big bed, a bit disoriented, but something isn't right. Her motherly instincts are on fire right now and she's pretty sure one of her three children is out of bed. She's proven right not seconds later when she hears one door creak open from the opposite end of the hallway and another, the kids' bathroom, close sharply. And perhaps this wouldn't worry her if her children regularly got up during the night to use the restroom, but they don't; since their infancy, all three of them had slept soundly throughout the entire night. Something isn't right. Peeling back the covers, Spencer steps out of bed and their bedroom, the glowing light from beneath the bathroom door the only thing guiding her through the dim hallway. Glancing behind her, Spencer realizes the bedroom door belonging to her sweet middle child is the one that remains ajar, and, to her horror, she hears the sound of Lilly retching from the other side of the door.

Gently, Spencer knocks on the bathroom door and pushes it open, finding her little girl bent over the porcelain throne and her heart breaks. "Lilly, honey? Are you okay?"

When she finishes, she shakes her head miserably and tears are pouring from her eyes. "No. I feel sick."

"I think you _are_ sick," Spencer says, kneeling down beside her daughter and pressing her lips to Lilly's forehead. Her eight-year-old is shivering, a cold sweat upon her brow, but her skin is like fire. "Oh babe, you're burning up."

"My stomach hurts," Lilly cries again. "I don't like throwing up."

Spencer nods sympathetically. "I don't think anyone does."

And this is, unfortunately, how the mother-daughter duo spends the rest of the evening. Spencer cringes each time Lilly gets sick, but she mops at her brow with a cold, wet washcloth and ties her hair back into a messy bun so as not to let it get in the way. She takes her daughter's temperature when the sun begins to rise over the bleak morning, her eyes widening at the numbers- 102.7 degrees and not dropping, unfortunately- and then wracks her brain trying to figure out a way to cool her down, because Lilly certainly can't keep Tylenol down, right now. She's also, despite her high temperature, still shaking like a leaf and clutching her favorite blanket around her shoulders in an attempt to, ironically, get warmer. Her own eyes are beginning to sting now, and Spencer's sure it's because she barely got any sleep and she's been running around trying to make Lilly comfortable and get her everything she needs. She finds herself wishing, as most parents probably do at one point or another, that her children could be perpetually healthy, because this isn't something she'd wish on her worst enemy.

She has no idea what time it is, anymore, but eventually, Grace and Henry appear in the doorway, hair disheveled and eyes wide. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Lilly?" Grace asks. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

Lilly nods feebly and she looks so incredibly miserable, it causes Spencer physical pain. Nothing gets to her more than her children being sick or in pain. "Guys, let's get out of here, okay? Give her some privacy. I doubt she wants to throw up in front of you."

Henry asks, "You're throwing up? _Gross_."

"Okay, okay," Spencer ushers them out of the room and turns back to Lilly to promise her, "I'll be right back, okay honey?"

Again, she nods painfully and the tears in her brown eyes spill over onto her pale face. Spencer closes the door behind her, sealing in the chamber of sick, and takes a deep breath. She can do this. She can get through the day, care for one sick child and two healthy ones, and not lose her mind in the process. Thoroughly washing her hands in the kitchen sink, Spencer begins to pull out mindless ingredients for breakfast, completely uninterested in eating, herself. Grace is spooning out the insides of a grapefruit with one hand and pouring cereal into a bowl with the other and Henry is sipping slowly at his cup of milk, waiting patiently for his mother to give him something to eat. They'd had plans today to go back to school shopping, find each of the kids their perfect first day outfit considering the amazing Labor Day weekend sales, but Spencer's pretty sure they won't be getting to the mall anytime soon. She supposes she should thank the Internet gods for online shopping.

When her oldest and youngest are occupied with their breakfast, Spencer fills a glass with water and a plate with saltine crackers with every intention of taking them to her middle child. Just outside the bathroom door, she gets a text from Toby saying, _Good morning! Miss you guys already. How's everything going over there?_ She frowns immediately upon reading it, because obviously things aren't going great and everything would be much easier if he were here with them. Her reply is short and sweet and to the point- _Miss you too. Lilly's been sick all night, so not super_. When she pushes the door open, she finds Lilly sitting with her legs crossed, her head resting upon the back wall, and Spencer smiles sympathetically at her. "How are we doing, Lil?"

"Not good," Lilly replies. "I don't have anything left to throw up, but my body still wants to."

"I brought you some water and some crackers," Spencer says, setting both of these on the floor beside her. "You might not want to eat, but you should drink something. I don't need you getting dehydrated."

Lilly completely bypasses the crackers, but reaches for the water like she's been stranded in the Sahara for eight weeks. Immediately, Spencer warns her, "Go slow, okay? Small sips; just a little bit at a time."

She heeds her mother's warning just as the phone in Spencer's pocket jumps to life, ringing off the hook. Unsurprised, Spencer answers on the first ring. "Hey."

"Hey. What do you mean she's been sick all night? Is she all right? What's going on?"

"She's been vomiting since three a.m.," Spencer says, checking her watch and balking when she notes it's nearing eleven. "I can't get her fever down because she can't keep anything down. Remember when we thought it was strange that she went to bed so early?"

"She was sick. Oh my god, my poor girl. Guess you didn't get any sleep, then?"

"Of course not," Spencer confirms. "I think she's slowing down, though. Hopefully, she's on the upswing."

"I'm so sorry. I wish I was there."

"Yeah, so do I, but… It's okay," Spencer shrugs. "It happens."

"Are the other two okay?"

"They're fine for now," She says. "But it's a long weekend and unfortunately, our kids hang out because they like each other so… We'll see what happens."

"Unfortunately! We _want_ them to like each other, remember?"

"Not in this case we don't," Spencer says. "They're always together which is usually a good thing, but this house is so hot, it's probably just acting as an incubator for this bug."

"You're probably right. And I wish you luck."

"Thanks," Spencer sighs and watches as Lilly tentatively reaches out and takes the tiniest bite of a saltine cracker. "I'm hoping for the best."

"Tell her I love her and give her an extra hug and kiss from me."

"I will."

They say their goodbyes a moment later and Spencer, already exhausted, turns to find Lilly standing shakily, her glass of water unsteady in her hands. "Are you alright, Lil?"

"I want to go sleep now," Lilly expresses. "I'm so tired, Mom."

"I know, honey. I bet you are," Spencer says and pulls her close, tucking her into her side and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "That's from Daddy. He loves you."

"I love him too," Lilly yawns. "Can I watch Netflix on your laptop?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees and leads her out of the bathroom. "Do you feel better yet?"

"A little," Lilly says. "My stomach still hurts but I don't think I'm going to puke."

Spencer nods but adds, "I'll put a bucket by your bed, just in case."

Parenting is so incredibly glorious, sometimes.

* * *

Lilly's fever breaks around dinnertime and she's able to keep down a few small sips of soup and the rest of her water. She's still incredibly pale and still complaining of an awful stomachache, but she doesn't vomit again and she falls asleep a little after seven p.m. This of course doesn't ease Spencer's anxiety; despite her exhaustion, she still finds herself waking hourly to creep into Lilly's bedroom and take her temperature and, luckily, it's falling back to normal a little bit each hour. She hopes her little girl will be back up to speed in no time, but it turns out, she hadn't been wrong earlier when she'd predicted that her other children would soon follow in Lilly's footsteps. She's barely slept a wink, but the second Lilly's temperature is back to normal around five a.m., Spencer crawls into bed and closes her eyes, hoping for at least an hour or two of sleep before her children awaken.

She doesn't even get a single minute.

There's a small knock on her bedroom door and instantly, her eyes fly open and adrenaline begins to race through her veins. She nearly sprints out of bed and meets Lilly in the doorway, her hair matted and stringy and face still ungodly pale, and once again, Spencer's on edge. She kneels to her daughter's level, runs a hand through her hair, and asks, "What is it, baby? Are you sick again?"

"No," Lilly shakes her head. "My belly doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good," Spencer smiles warmly. "Do you think you can eat something today?"

She nods and then hesitates, glancing over her shoulder nervously as her mother asks, "What's wrong?"

"It's Grace," Lilly says simply. "I think I got her sick."

"Uh oh," Spencer stands and steps out of the bedroom into the hallway, Lilly's tiny hand finding its way into hers. At the same time, the door to the kids' bathroom opens and Grace, looking absolutely miserable, exits. All her mother can say is, "Grace…?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mom," Grace says, her voice raspy. "It wasn't pretty."

Spencer grimaces. "Well, at least you've still got your sense of humor."

She nods feebly but grows very pale at once and then turns and disappears behind the door once more. Spencer frowns before turning to Lilly and saying, "I guess it wasn't something you ate."

Lilly's glancing at the carpet and she mumbles, "I have to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"To Grace. I got her sick."

"Oh honey," Spencer shakes her head, a finger beneath her chin to bring their eyes level. "It's not your fault she's sick. It's not your fault _you_ were sick, either. It happens. Someone got you sick, and someone got that someone sick, and someone else got _that_ someone sick, too. It's a vicious cycle, I'm afraid, and it's never ending. Plus, you've been around eight years. I'm sure Grace has gotten you sick once or twice."

"I guess so."

"Okay?" Spencer asks and Lilly nods. "Come on. Let's go downstairs and have a little something to eat. You've got to be starving."

"A little bit."

"Where's your brother?"

Lilly shrugs and chooses a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter the moment they enter the kitchen. Spencer places a few slices of bread into the toaster and brings the teakettle to a boil on the stove, barely glancing up as Henry comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and climbing onto the bar stool beside his sister. "You don't look like Grace."

Lilly smiles, shaking her head. "Grace is sick, now."

"Oh," Henry says. "That's disgusting."

"What can I make you for breakfast, Henry?" Spencer asks, pouring Lilly a cup of tea and placing two slices of toast next to her banana. "Bacon and eggs? Or maybe a bagel and some fruit?"

Henry crosses his arms on the countertop and rests his chin upon his tiny wrist. "I'm not hungry."

"You're not?" Spencer implores, reaching for a glass from the cupboard. "Why not?"

Henry shrugs and watches as his mother places a few saltine crackers on a plate along with a glass of fresh, cold water. "Why can't I have crackers for breakfast?"

"I thought you weren't hungry?" Spencer teases, a smile on her face. "They're for your sister who's sick. Let me know when you're ready to eat, okay?"

Just as she's graced the doorway of the kitchen, Henry peers into Lilly's cup of tea and asks, "Can I have some of that?"

"Sure," Spencer nods, turning back for a moment to honor his request. "But I don't think you're going to like it."

"What does it taste like?" He asks, sitting up a little straighter as his mother pours him a cup.

"It's good," Lilly tells him. "It's sweet. It makes my stomach feel better."

"Careful," Spencer warns him, sliding him the steaming mug. "It's hot. I'll be right back, okay? I need to go check on Grace."

Climbing the stairs, Spencer knocks twice on the bathroom door and enters, careful not to spill or drop the contents of her tray onto the floor. Grace looks so supremely wretched; she's half sitting, half lying on the floor by the toilet and Spencer's mouth instantly twists into a frown. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm never going to eat anything ever again."

"Oh," Spencer nods. "So maybe you don't want these."

She shakes her head and tears fill her eyes. "This sucks. I want to declare war on my stomach."

Spencer smirks. "I think your stomach's already beaten you to that."

She kneels beside her daughter, pressing her lips to Grace's sweaty forehead. "You aren't warm so that's good. Lilly had a fever, but you seem to have avoided that."

"Small victory, I guess."

It never ceases to amaze Spencer how incredibly resilient her eldest daughter is. This kid could take a beating and still come out smiling on the other side, something she knows came from her husband, regardless of how much he likes to say Grace is her clone. "Can I get you anything?"

"A stomach transplant?"

Chuckling, Spencer asks, "Really. Drink some water, please. Slowly. And if you can, try and eat a cracker or two. It'll help if you start dry heaving."

"Why?" Grace whines. "Put something in my stomach so there's something to come back up? How ironic."

Spencer shakes her head and kisses the top of Grace's head once more. "Do you want anything? A blanket? A sweatshirt?"

"A sweatshirt," Grace nods and then grapples for the lid of the toilet, shrieking, "Ew! I'm going to be sick again! Get out! Get out! I don't want you to see me throw up!"

"Grace, I've been your mother for fourteen years," Spencer replies, stepping out of the bathroom to respect her wishes. "I've seen you get sick before."

She's just entered Grace's bedroom and begun pawing through her dresser for a sweatshirt when her phone rings. For a moment, she just stares at her husband's smiling face, disoriented and bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. And just as it's about to go to voicemail, she jumps into action and accepts his call, pressing the phone to her ear. "Morning Tobes."

"Hey. How are you? How's Lil?"

"Lilly's okay," Spencer replies. "Still not one hundred percent, but her fever's gone and she isn't vomiting anymore. Grace, on the other hand…"

"Oh no. It spread just like you said it would."

"I'm giving Henry twenty-four hours. This house is like a vomit-fest lately."

"Gross. And what about you? How do you feel?"

"I'm exhausted, but I feel okay," Spencer says and yawns, proving her point. "I think we could all use a nap, honestly."

"Do you need me to come home? I can try and get someone to cover for me so I can cut the job short."

"No, it's work. It's fine," Spencer insists. "I'm doing a fairly good job holding down the fort."

"I'm not saying you're not, it's just… I feel like I should be there with you. I feel awful that I'm away while they're all sick."

Spencer shrugs. "Even if you were here… What could you do? It's a stomach bug. It's just kind of a wait-it-out kind of thing."

"I could do _something_. Take over while you sleep, maybe. If you don't get your rest, you'll be the next one sick."

"No, I don't have time for that," Spencer shakes her head. "How's it going over there?"

"Same old, same old. It's been rainy and we haven't been able to work on the roof which has set us back a day or two."

She nods and folds Grace's sweatshirt once and then twice, heading back towards the bathroom. "Have you heard anything else from your father?"

"Yeah he called me last night. He wanted to know if I'd come down to Rosewood when I got back so we could have dinner, just the four of us."

She bites back a sarcastic reply, knowing the waters between them concerning this topic are still rough. "And? Are you going to go?"

"I don't know."

Exhaling slowly, Spencer says, "Okay."

After a beat, Toby asks, "Are you sure you don't want me to come home?"

"Believe me, I'd prefer if you were here. Everything is always easier when you are," Spencer professes. "But I can handle it. And you have to work. I'll call you if anything changes, I promise."

"Okay. Give them hugs and kisses for me. Tell them I love them and hope they feel better."

"I will."

When she brings this to her eldest daughter, who's looking much paler than before, Grace asks, "Do you think Dad could come home anyway? And bring me a new stomach when he does?"

Spencer chuckles. "I wouldn't count on it."

* * *

Henry doesn't get sick that night, or the next night, or the night after that. Spencer's just beginning to think he's managed to somehow skip this illness when disaster strikes. It's the day before Toby's scheduled to come home when everything goes to hell. He complains that morning of being hot, but as the temperature is in the upper nineties, Spencer doesn't think too much of it. With Grace and Lilly finally at their best, the family of four heads out to get groceries in order to stock up for school, which starts in just a few short days. Henry grows very quiet and when Spencer turns to ask what he'd like for his lunches this year, he proceeds to answer by vomiting all over the floor in front of him. Lilly shrieks and leaps out of the way as Grace begins to travel to the next aisle in order to escape the mess. Spencer's honestly speechless and completely mortified. A teenage employee who doesn't get paid _nearly_ enough to deal with this assures her it's okay, offers Henry a trash bag, and then wheels out a mop and bucket. Henry proceeds to vomit twice more on the way home, both his sisters sitting as close to the car door as possible.

It seems his tiny little six-year-old body is wracked with this illness much, much worse than his sisters had had it. His body temperature raises to a dangerous level and he cries each time his stomach betrays him by emptying its contents once more. All day and night he struggles and suffers and unlike the girls, he shows no sign of improving. He also refuses to take a drink of water for hours and when Spencer finally cons his weak little body into accepting a sip, it doesn't stay down. She leaves him lying despondently on the couch to see the girls off to bed and she returns to find Henry gagging over the strategically placed bucket on the living room floor. Exhaling heavily, Spencer can see it's going to be yet another long, long night. She sends Toby a quick text saying, _Henry's turn. It's like the fucking vomit apocalypse here_ and it's just after midnight when he replies, _I'm so sorry. Now are you ready for me to come home?_

She never gets the chance to reply. It's been over twelve hours of Henry's illness and she's pretty sure Lilly and Grace's digestive systems had calmed by now, at this point. He's as hot as the sun curled into her side, his hair damp with sweat when she presses a kiss to his crown. She's put his favorite movie on, but he's watching absent-mindedly, unable to focus. Spencer reaches over for the ice-cold washcloth and places it on his forehead, but he bursts into tears and pulls it off of him. She's already tried to give him a nice, cool bath, but he'd cried as though his skin were on fire and she hadn't wanted to wake the girls, so she'd pulled him out. But he's still heaving and he's sweating through his pajamas and scaring the living shit out of his mother. He's never been this sick in all his life.

"Momma?" He murmurs a little later, as the movie's coming a close and it's nearing two a.m.

"What, baby?" Spencer asks, smoothing some hair away from his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"Do you think the elephant wants to play with us?"

Spencer glances at him, her eyebrows raised. "What?"

"He's right there," Henry points to the empty carpeted area beside the entertainment center. "He's watching us."

"Honey, there's no one there. Certainly not an elephant in our living room."

"He wants to play soccer with us."

"Henry, we're not-"

"Mommy!" Henry shrieks. "You missed the goal."

Spencer reaches for the thermometer next. "You're getting delirious on me, now?"

"The ball is wet because of the grass."

"Oh my god," Spencer shakes her head, reading the results. 103.4; his temperature's rising instead of lowering. "Hen, we have _got_ to get your temperature down."

He stares blankly at her and then bends at the waist, vomiting into the bucket at his feet. She grimaces and asks, "But how? You're never going to keep any Tylenol down."

She tucks the blanket around his shoulders because he's shivering violently but regrets it as she spots the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Entering the kitchen, Spencer fills a bunch of Ziploc bags with ice cubes and wraps them in kitchen towels before bringing them back and sticking them to Henry in every area of his little body she can reach. She waits an agonizing twenty minutes before testing his temperature again and her eyes widen, her heart pounds against her chest, at the sight of the awful little numbers- 104 degrees. She doesn't recognize her voice, but it's there anyway. "Henry, my love, we need to get you to the hospital."

It's just after two in the morning and she realizes she must be just as delirious as he is. Hanna and Caleb are on the camping trip they take every long weekend, Emily and Paige don't return from Disney until tomorrow evening and her parents and sister live too far away to get here in a timely fashion. It leaves Jason and Aria, her only hope. Dialing her number with shaking fingers, Spencer alternates the ice packs on Henry's body and he's gone so quiet and still beside her. "I know, baby. You feel awful. I know. You're dehydrated and delirious and I'm going to get you to a doctor, okay? Just hold on for a bit. Just a little longer."

It rings once, twice, three times and then goes to voicemail. Spencer swears under her breath but, without missing a beat, she tries Jason's number next. He answers on the third ring and yawns in her ear. "Spence? What are you doing calling this late?"

"Henry's really sick," She replies and feel tears stinging at her eyes, a lump forming in her throat. "He's _really_ sick and I need to take him to the hospital, but Toby's away and it's two in the morning and I need someone to come stay with the girls because Grace is definitely old enough but I don't want to wake her and tell her what's going on because she was sick too and I want her to get the rest she needs and I don't know what to do but I-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," He stops her and she can already hear keys jingling in the background. "You had me at 'Henry's really sick'. I'll be there in five."

"Thank you," She exhales heavily. "Thank you _so_ much."

She slips shoes on and bundles Henry into her arms, not bothering with shoes for him and he doesn't seem to notice anyway. Her next call is to her husband and, unlike her brother and sister-in-law, Toby answers on the first ring with about as much panic as is running through her own veins. "What's going on? What's wrong? Why are you calling me this late?"

"Toby," is all she manages to get out before her emotions get the best of her and suddenly, she can't stop crying. "He's _so_ sick. He's really, really sick and his fever is _so_ high."

"How high?"

"104."

" _104?_ Jesus Christ."

"Jason's coming," She says, absentmindedly combing through Henry's damp hair. "I'm taking him to the hospital. I think he's severely dehydrated."

"Yeah, sounds like it. I'm coming. And don't you dare try to tell me not to come home."

"I wasn't going to."

"This job is nowhere near as important as my son."

She sniffles, wiping at her eyes and attempting to pull herself together. He pauses and asks, "Are you alright?"

"Compared to what?" She retorts. "Of course I'm not alright. I'm _freaking_ out, here."

"I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? I'm on my way."

She hears gravel turn up outside and there are two flashing headlights in the deep, dark night. "Jason's here. I've got to go."

"I'll be there soon. I'll meet you there. Just take a few deep breaths, okay? Henry'll be alright."

She nods and ends their call, opening the front door with one hand and juggling Henry's feverish body with her other. Jason ducks into the house and his eyes widen. "Holy Christ, Spence, you look like hell."

"Yeah, this house has been a quarantine zone of viruses in the past however many hours," She warns him. "I'm so sorry if you get sick next."

"Don't worry about me," Jason waves it off before placing a sympathetic hand on little Henry's forehead. "Aw, little man, you don't look much better. He's white as a sheet."

"I know." Spencer laments. "Just… Let the girls know where I am when they get up, okay? I'll keep you posted with updates."

"Yeah, I got it, don't worry. Get out of here," Jason says and kisses Henry's cheek for good measure. "Feel better, little guy. You're scaring the shit out of your mother."

She shoots him a half-hearted smile and then heads towards her car at the top of the driveway. Henry hasn't vomited in at least thirty minutes, which she wants to take as a good sign but knows she probably shouldn't; he doesn't have any fluids left in him and this thought alone fuels her adrenaline and fear more than anything else. The children's hospital is twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes away from their home, but each minute in the car, each red light that plagues them, feels like ten thousand years. She's sure she looks like an absolute madwoman the moment she throws her car in park, gingerly scoops her ill six-year-old into her arms and races through the sliding doors of the hospital, frantic and near tears, as she desperately attempts to explain to the first nurse she sees the extent of her son's condition.

"He's been vomiting nonstop for hours, all day and night," She gasps out. "And he's had this awful fever and I couldn't bring it down and he can't keep any medicine or water down and I think he's dehydrated and… and…"

"Okay," The nurse nods and if she's put off by Spencer's frenzy, she doesn't show it. "I'll just need you to fill out some paperwork and we'll get him seen as soon as we can."

"Paperwork? He's…" She shakes her head. "Can't you see him first? Can't I fill this out later, after you've treated him?"

"Ma'am, it's just protocol," The nurse shrugs. "I'll get him into triage as soon as I can."

Spencer sinks into the closest chair and attempts to fill out the paperwork one-handed. She reaches for one of his homemade ice packs and, to her horror, his body heat has turned it into a bag of lukewarm water. As she's reaching the final page, a brand new nurse comes to her aid and smiles politely. "Hi. I'm Angie. I'm going to be assessing your son."

"Spencer Cavanaugh," She emits urgently. "This is Henry."

"Hi Henry," She greets him, though he's lethargically lying against his mother, unable to return her greeting. "And how old is he?"

"He's just turned six," Spencer replies and hands her his completed paperwork.

"Ah, flu-like symptoms," Angie reads it over quickly and stands a moment, reaching for a stethoscope and thermometer. "Not feeling so hot tonight, are we Henry?"

"No, he's feeling _too_ hot," Spencer says. "That's the problem."

"How long and how often has he been vomiting?"

"Since ten o'clock this morning," Spencer says. "About every half hour or so."

"Any diarrhea?"

"Occasionally."

"How's his urine output been?"

"He hasn't gone in hours," Spencer says. "I'm not sure of the last time, honestly."

"This might be a little cold, okay Henry?" Angie warns next and slips the thermometer into his mouth. He doesn't even flinch. "Oh my word. 104.2? Not good. Not good at all."

"I know," Spencer frets. "That's why we're here."

"I'm going to admit him right away," Angie informs her. "We'll need to get an IV into him to replace the fluids he's lost and to get him the medicine he needs to get this fever under control. We'll also be administering anti-nausea medication that should, hopefully, help with the vomiting and the diarrhea."

"An IV?" Spencer repeats and nods slowly. "Okay. He's… He's never had one before."

Angie nods. "I'd be surprised if he had."

They take him to a room just a bit down the hallway and Spencer feels like her legs are made of jelly; this is the sickest her tiny little baby has ever been and he looks so incredibly small lying in that big, white hospital bed. They peel off his pajamas and fit him with a hospital gown, circus animals and big colorful tents adorning the soft fabric. The room is soon full of nurses and Spencer's head is spinning. One sticks a tongue depressor in Henry's mouth and shines a flashlight down his throat, saying, "I'm checking for strep and tonsillitis. Both appear to be negative. We'll take a culture and monitor him for symptoms anyway."

They swab the back of his throat and he gags, his eyes filling with tears. Spencer grips his hand even tighter, saying, "It's almost over, baby. You're so, _so_ brave."

Another nurse steps closer with a large needle and Spencer's eyes widen the moment he reaches for Henry's arm. "What are you doing?"

"We'll need to draw blood to test for any viral infections," He explains calmly. "Henry, you're just going to feel a small pinch okay?"

He touches Henry with the needle ever so gently, and her son doesn't even flinch. Ruby red blood fills the container and Spencer has to look away. Again, she repeats, "It's almost done, Hen. It's okay."

The last nurse is hooking a bag of fluids to a metal pole on wheels and when she comes at Henry with the needle, she neither warns him nor encourages he'll be all right. The pointy tip of the needle goes straight through his skin and he writhes in pain and bursts into tears. Horrified, Spencer eyes snap sharply towards the nurse, who looks unfazed. "We'll be administering medication to control his fever through this intravenous line, but if we cannot bring his temperature down, we will have to give him an ice bath."

"Mommy," Henry cries, reaching for the needle and attempting to claw it out. "Mommy, it _hurts!_ "

"I know, baby, I know," Spencer sympathizes and the nurse frowns.

"I didn't get his vein, that time. I'll need to try again," She says. "You'll need to keep him still."

"I'm trying. I…" Spencer shakes her head. "You're _hurting_ him."

She removes the needle and makes a second attempt to find an ample vein and once more, she's unsuccessful as Henry begins to scream. " _Ow!_ Ow, Mommy, it hurts! It hurts! _Ow!_ "

"I know. It's okay. It's almost done. It's almost over," Spencer swallows past the lump in her throat and tries not to look at the purple bruises already forming on the back of his tiny hand. "We're going to get you some medicine and then you're going to feel all better, okay?"

He merely shrieks in pain and continues to cry in response and this is almost too much for her. She doesn't know how much more of this she can take. Impatiently, the nurse says, "I'll have to try the other hand. Please try and keep him still. I'll need him to cooperate because his veins certainly aren't."

Spencer nods and inhales a shaky breath, leaning closer to block Henry's view of the needle and grasping each of his tiny arms in her hands. "Henry, I know it hurts but just look at me, okay? Just look right at me. It's just going to be one tiny little stick and then it's all done. You'll get some medicine and some rest and then you'll be all better and we'll go home, okay? It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. I'm right here with you and I'm not ever going to leave."

"Mommy…" Henry wails once more. "Mommy, it _hurts_."

"I know. I know it hurts," Spencer nods. "But you're sick and this is going to make you feel better. It's just going to hurt a little bit and then it'll be all done."

He nods as if he understands but tears continue to stream from his chocolate brown eyes. Spencer knows the nurse is successful this time because Henry gives an initial shriek of pain and then quiets a bit, crying as he and his mother watch the nurse affix a cotton patch to his hand where the needle rests with surgical tape. Spencer leans forward, swipes tears off of his face and kisses him over and over. "See? That's all it is. That's it. It's all over. It's done. You're so brave, Henry. You're so, _so_ brave."

The nurse begins to make a few notes on his chart at the end of his bed and says, monotonously, "We'll be checking in on him throughout the night, but he should start to feel better soon. Hopefully, he can get some rest."

"Thank you," Spencer says and, because she's running on no sleep and high emotions, she decides to bite back the bitter response she'd saved for the nurse who had been less than patient with her six-year-old, IV first-timer. He continues to cry and she continues to hold him, whispering her love over and over and trying her best to soothe him.

It feels like hours, but he eventually falls into a restless sleep, tears already drying salty and sticky upon his face. It's too much; she feels like she's going to explode. She needs to get some air. She presses a kiss to his forehead and crosses the room, opens the door and takes a step into the hallway. Inhaling and exhaling as deeply and calmly as she can, Spencer can feel she's just seconds away from a breakdown. She can't get the sight of the needles, her son's blood, or the dark purple bruises on his otherwise perfect skin out of the forefront of her mind and Henry's despaired, pained screams and cries are still ringing in her ears. Before she can think twice, she's walking blindly down the hallway, towards the waiting room, and she hears his voice and sees his face before she can even register that her husband's there, waiting for her. He looks like he's run all the way from Allentown by the urgency in his eyes and he couldn't have come at a better time.

"I called you at least a dozen times," Toby says, his hands on either side of her. "What's going on? Where is he?"

"He's sleeping, he's… he's in the room and…" Spencer chokes out and she's shaking her head so fast, it's blurring her vision. It's coming. Her explosion of emotions is near.

"Spencer," Toby frowns and steps closer, opening his arms to her. "Come on. Come here."

And that's all it takes. She bursts into tears and clings to him he's her lifeline. She feels like she's going to collapse from all the fear and the pain and the awful reminders of what had happened tonight, but she knows if she does, Toby won't let her fall. He never does. He holds onto her so tightly and presses a reassuring kiss into her hair and he whispers something but Spencer can't make it out; she's sobbing too hard. All the events of the past few days come rushing back to her and she suddenly feels so utterly exhausted, so thoroughly spent, and she's sure if she doesn't get some rest _stat_ , she's going to fall apart at the seams. Somehow, after a few more longing moments in his arms and about a dozen kisses, she manages to pull herself together long enough to tell him everything.

"He was vomiting _so much_ ," Spencer shakes her head, leading him back to their son's room. "I've never seen _anyone_ puke that much; I mean, it had to be more than half his body weight. And then, no matter what I did, I couldn't get him to drink and when he did, he couldn't keep any of it down. And then his fever was so high and I was checking it like every half hour because I was so afraid of it getting to this point and I tried _everything_ to bring it down; an ice bath and homemade ice packs and washcloths and everything. And then we got here and they had to draw blood and they made me fill out this stupid paperwork before they would see him and then they couldn't get the IV in and they just kept sticking his little hands and he was screaming and screaming… I can't even express to you how awful it was. I can't… It _killed_ me. It absolutely killed me."

Toby looks like just this mere confession has killed him. "I hate that you had to go through that alone. I _hate_ that I wasn't here with you."

"It's not your fault," She insists. "You were working and how could you know it was going to get this bad?"

"Still… You shouldn't ever have to go through something like that alone," Toby frowns, clearly at war with himself. "We're a team. I should've been here for him. I should've been here for _you_."

"Toby," She assures him. "We're still a team. Nothing's changed that."

He still looks so utterly disappointed in himself and it completely breaks her heart. They stop right outside Henry's room and quietly push the door open. A nurse is checking his vitals as he sleeps on and she smiles as they enter, saying, "His fever's already down to 102. We're getting there. I'm guessing by morning, he'll be just fine."

"Thank you so much," Spencer grins and sits down on the chair beside the bed, Toby following suit.

"I'm guessing you'll be staying with him tonight?" She then asks and both his parents nod without hesitation.

"We're not leaving him."

"Very well," She nods. "I'll see if I can arrange for a cot to be sent up."

They thank her again as she leaves them behind and Toby bends over and kisses his son on the forehead. "You're right; he looks so tiny in this big old bed."

"I know," Spencer exhales, her voice hoarse. "This was, without a doubt, the scariest night of my life."

Toby nods his agreement, taking one of Henry's tiny hands in his. "I think I was doing about ninety on the turnpike trying to get to you two."

"It's just… You never expect something like this to happen, you know?" Spencer says. "I'm his mother. I'm supposed to care for him when he's sick and make him feel better and nurse him back to health. But this was out of my control; it was out of my hands. Everything I was doing… He wasn't responding to it. And he was getting sicker and sicker and… I couldn't fix it. I'm his mom; I'm _supposed_ to fix it. But I couldn't. There was literally nothing I could do. And how many times was my life endangered as a teenager? How many times did I escape death? How many nights did –A threaten to and nearly succeed in taking my life? This night, watching Henry suffer, was worse than all of those nights combined."

With his free hand, Toby reaches for one of hers and kisses each one of her knuckles. "I know tonight was awful and easily the most difficult thing you've had to do as a parent, but you are a phenomenal mother and I really hope you realize that. I love you so much and I know that Henry does too."

She gives him a watery smile and wonders if she'll ever stop crying. "Thank you. I love you too and trust me, you're just as amazing. Please don't beat yourself up about not being here at first. It was out of your control, too, and you're here now. That's all that matters."

He smiles, too, and nothing more is said.

* * *

She awakens to the sound of squeaky gurney wheels on shiny linoleum and bright sunlight filtering through uncovered windows. There's an awful crick in her neck and she realizes she'd fallen asleep in the chair by Henry's bedside, her top half curled on top of the bed and her bottom half still in a sitting position on the hard plastic chair. She sits and stretches the tiniest bit, attempting to crack her neck and feeling a headache already coming on. She'd like to find a real bed and sleep for years, if she could. Across the way, Toby's curled in an armchair in a restless sleep and Spencer wonders for a moment what happened to this cot that one nurse was supposed to send them. She'd clearly not gotten around to it. Since she's basically a well of emotion, Spencer feels tears, both fresh and dried, on her face and she does her best to wipe them away as she glances over at her son, expecting to find him still fast asleep, lost somewhere in dreamland.

He isn't. In fact, he's wide-awake and staring at her with his big, brown inquisitive eyes.

"Hi Mommy," He says as a form of greeting and then observes, "You're crying on my bed."

This emits a chuckle from her lips and she nods, saying, "Yeah. I'm sorry. I don't mean to get your blankets all wet."

"Don't be sad," Henry pleads, taking one of her hands in both of his. "I'm all better now, just like you said."

Spencer smiles. "Oh really? You are?"

"Yeah! My belly doesn't hurt and I'm not going to puke," He says matter-of-factly. "Daddy's here, too."

"I know," Spencer nods. "He came last night while you were sleeping. He was so worried about you, Hen. We both were."

Henry glances out the window before announcing, "I'm hungry."

"Yeah? And what would you like to eat?"

"Mac and cheese," He decides. "And chicken nuggets. And French fries. And chocolate pudding. And fruit."

"Well, that sounds like quite the meal," Spencer chuckles and Henry giggles at the sound.

Their laughter rouses Toby, who glances around for a moment, disoriented, before smiling upon the sight of his son. "Hen! You feeling better today?"

"Uh-huh," Henry nods eagerly. "I'm not going to throw up anymore and the doctor gave me a needle and I didn't even cry."

Spencer chastises, "Henry!"

"Okay, I only cried a _little_ ," He amends his statement and at his mother's look, he bites his lip. "I cried a lot. But I'm still brave, right?"

"Are you kidding? You're the bravest," Toby agrees. "Not many people could get stuck with needles all night and then be this happy in the morning."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I know I couldn't," Toby says. "You're already braver than me."

Henry giggles and Spencer grins. This, right here, is her six-year-old; he's already back to his old self. The nurse comes in a few moments later, removes his IV and gives him a neon green Band-Aid to cover the open vein. She informs them that they'd like to monitor his condition off of the drugs for a few hours before they release him, but if he shows no signs of regression, he'll be free to go. This is music to everyone's ears and Spencer then takes over the task of informing all her friends and family about the incident that had occurred the night prior and the progress her son is making. She thanks everyone for their support and their prayers and they're on their way home just after noon. Henry talks nonstop the entire car ride home and Spencer grins the whole way; he's _definitely_ back to his old self. Grace and Lilly had taken the time to make 'Welcome Home!' signs for their younger brother and then they settle in with a movie as their parents retreat to the kitchen to finish a much-needed talk.

"So…" Spencer trails off. "Should we take this argument off pause? It seems so trivial now."

"It is, I guess," Toby sighs. "I called my dad to tell him about Henry and he didn't pick up. I left him a voicemail and I told him… I told him I'd go to that dinner he invited me to; just the four of us."

"Oh," Spencer says quietly. "You really want to do that, huh?"

"I thought you were supportive of this whole thing?"

"No I am, I just…" Spencer says. "I don't want you to go if things are just going to be the same. I want you to make some progress, here. Otherwise, your father's going to continue to treat you like shit because…"

"Because what?" Toby finishes. "Because I let him?"

"No," She pleads with him to understand. "Because he doesn't know the truth."

Toby frowns and says, "Well that's why… I'm going to tell him the truth."

Her eyes widen. "You are?"

"Yeah," He nods. "I've been thinking _a lot_ about what you said. It's basically been all I could think about since I left. And you're right. I've kept this from him long enough. It's about time that he finally knows what really went on under his own roof."

"And I'm not pressuring you to do this, am I?" Spencer asks. "I don't want you to tell him if you're not ready. I'm a human bulldozer, I know, and I don't-"

"Spencer, you're not… It's not like that," He shakes his head. "I've been wanting to tell him forever. I've just been… afraid. Afraid of what he'd say or how he'd react. But I realized… I don't care anymore. I don't care if he thinks I'm lying or if he removes me from the family or thinks I'm making it up for attention. I used to care but I _don't_ anymore because I am so sick of living in fear of my father. It's gone on way too long. And if I tell him then… I can finally get everything out in the open. We can finally move on. And then maybe we can stop with these arguments too; you and I, I mean."

Spencer bites her lip. "I'm sorry."

"I am, too," Toby replies. "I have no right getting mad at you for _caring_ about me and the way my family treats me. You've always been my number one, my strongest supporter, and I shouldn't take that for granted."

"But I also have no right exploding over every little thing with your family," She exhales. "Especially since… Well… People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

He grins. "Well, I forgive you if you'll forgive me."

"Of course I do," Spencer agrees and leans across the table to press a quick kiss to his lips. "No need to rehash this over and over."

"You said it."

"So when are you going to tell him?" Spencer asks. "You can't do it at dinner when she's there."

"Yeah, I know," Toby says. "I hadn't exactly figured that out."

Spencer watches him carefully for a moment before asking, "Do you want me to go with you?"

"I considered that," Toby tells her. "But honestly- and this has nothing to do with you, trust me- I think this is something I have to do alone."

Spencer nods. "I understand."

Lilly pokes her head into the kitchen then, snapping her parents out of their heavy conversation. "Mom? Dad? Do you guys want to play Scrabble? Grace and I are starting a game."

"Scrabble?" Spencer asks. "What happened to the movie?"

"We got it all set up and then Henry fell asleep," Lilly smiles. "He must be really tired."

"He probably is. I'm not sure he slept much last night," Spencer nods. "You go ahead and play, okay? I've got to get this house clean; banish those germs back where they came from."

Lilly nods and turns to her father. "Dad?"

"I'll help," Toby says. "It's the least I can do."

Again, Lilly nods and then scurries back to the living room. Spencer sighs and says, "What I wouldn't give for a nice relaxing game of Scrabble right now. But I have to get those bathrooms cleaned and I want to change the kids' sheets and do a load of sick laundry and maybe open some windows and air this house out…"

"I'll help you," Toby repeats himself. "And besides, when is it ever a 'relaxing' game of Scrabble with you?"

Spencer shakes her head. "Toby, one of these days I'm going to beat you."

"You've been saying this for how many years now? And how many times have you won?"

She shakes her head, a grin on her face. "Whatever. It'll happen."

"Sure. Of course it will."

"I'll get the sheets and the laundry," Spencer decides. "Would you like the bathroom?"

"Not really," He tells her. "But I'll do it. I kind of wish we could take a nap like Henry. I'm exhausted and I know you must be."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately there's too much work to be done," She says and then her cell phone jumps to life on the kitchen table between them. "Ah, I've been waiting for this call. I'm just going to get this and then I'll get started."

Toby smirks and stands, heading for the stairs. "Good luck."

"You too!" She calls back and accepts the call, pressing the receiver to her ear. "Hi Mom."

"Hospitalized? What do you mean hospitalized?"

"I mean, that's pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?" She asks, climbing the stairs and pulling fresh sheets from the linen closet, beginning with Henry's room. Her mother lets out an exasperated breath on the other line.

"What happened? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Because it was three a.m." Spencer says. "He just… The girls had a stomach bug over the weekend and when it hit Henry, it hit him _hard_. He was _so_ sick and his fever was over 104 and nothing I was doing was helping him, so I brought him in. It was actually really terrifying."

"Oh my god. And Toby, he was away, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, that didn't make things any better."

"He was just dehydrated then? Or was it something else?"

"No, thankfully, it was just that," Spencer replies. "I kept trying to get him to drink water because he was vomiting _so_ much, but he couldn't even keep a sip down. They gave him an IV. He screamed."

"I bet. Poor baby. How is he now?"

"He's okay," Spencer tells her. "He keeps saying his IV site itches, but that Band-Aid's pretty thick; I don't think he'll be able to scratch it. He's asleep on the couch, now."

"I'm coming up there."

"No, Mom," Spencer frowns. "You don't have to do that."

"He's sick and you have the girls to worry about, too, and you're by yourself-"

"I'm not by myself," Spencer cuts her off. "Toby's here now."

"He is? Doesn't he have that job somewhere?"

"Well, yeah, but Henry was in the _hospital_ ," Spencer shakes her head. "He came home last night, obviously."

"Oh. Well yeah, no, I guess that makes sense."

"Toby's different than Dad, Mom," Spencer says bitterly. "When one of his kids is sick or hurt, he actually _shows up_."

Her mother sighs on the other end, replying, "Are you still mad about-"

" _Of course_ I am! I was, like, eight and I still remember sitting there in emergency room by myself," Spencer frowns. "Because you were in court and Dad was in Philly, too busy to be bothered by the daughter who fell off her horse."

"I got there as soon as I could!"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"I'm coming up there. Don't try and stop me."

"Mom, seriously, you don't have to," Spencer shakes her head. "He's fine. He's resting. The girls are okay. Toby and I are fine. Everything's good."

The doorbell rings and nearly drowns out her mother's response. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't _want_ me there?"

"Grace, can you get the door?" Spencer calls down the stairs, stretching a fitted sheet over Lilly's mattress. "Mom, it's not about not wanting you. It's just that you don't _need_ to flock to this situation ready to fix things. There's nothing to fix. We're good."

"I'm not trying to fix anything! Why can't I come see my grandkids?"

"No, of course you can, it's just…" Spencer sighs as the doorbell rings a second time. " _Grace!_ "

"It's just _what_ , Spencer? Tell me what you're thinking because I'm sure it's good."

"I don't want you coming up here for the wrong reasons." Spencer says and bites her lip, wondering how this will go over with her mother. "They hardly get to see you as it is and I don't want them to think they have to be gravely ill in order to see their grandparents."

"That is _ridiculous_ ," Veronica groans and when the doorbell rings a third time, Spencer rolls her eyes and abandons her laundry, heading down the stairs as her mother drones on. "I love those kids and you know that."

"I know. I never said you didn't. I just said-"

"And for your information, _you_ could bring them here more often too, you know. You have this vendetta against Rosewood and I've tried to understand it, but frankly, it's keeping my grandkids from having an enriched relationship with your father and I. I see Vivian weekly, you know. Sometimes daily. Because your sister cares enough to ensure that-"

"Works both ways, Mom," Spencer cuts her off and reaches the front door moments later, noting Grace and Lilly have abandoned their game for the basement and she was basically, a moment ago, shouting to no one. "You're right; we could certainly visit you more often. But so could you. Make the effort. You work a lot, sure, but so do we. And weekends are a thing you're forgetting."

"That's what I'm trying to do! Make an effort! Come up there today! But you're telling me not to."

Spencer swings the front door open and whatever response she's planned completely dies on her lips at the sight of Toby's father on their front porch. She can hear her mother speaking, calling to her, on the other end, but she can barely formulate a sentence. "Mom, I have to go. I'll call you back."

He smiles simply at her and oddly enough, this lessens his intimidating factor by about half of what it normally is. "Spencer. Hi. How are you?"

"Uh, good Mr. Cavanaugh, how are you?" She implores, wondering if there will ever be a day when her nerves don't erupt into a frenzy at the sight of this man.

"Fine," He replies. "May I come in?"

"Yeah, of course, I'm sorry," Spencer nods and steps aside, allowing him entry and shutting the door behind him. "You're going to have to excuse the mess. It's been chaos around here, lately."

"So I've heard," Daniel says. "That's actually part of the reason I'm here. Is Henry all right? Toby called and told me he was in the hospital."

"He's okay now, thanks," Spencer smiles a bit. "Bad stomach bug led to severe dehydration. He's just resting now."

"Poor little guy," Daniel shakes his head and Spencer nods her agreement. An awkward silence between them follows.

It's broken not seconds later by the girls climbing the basement stairs and the door opening as they join the land of the living in the foyer. Grace's voice carries the whole way. "I can't believe that's even a word, Lilly. It sounds so made up."

"But it is a word. It's an old word they used to use for candle," Lilly grins triumphantly. "Maybe we should light a _quarion_ because I won."

"I don't understand how you _always_ beat me."

"Duh," Lilly shakes her head. "It's in my blood."

"It's in my blood too! We have the same blood!"

"Then maybe you should be better at Scrabble."

Grace swats her sister, chuckling, before they both come to a dead stop at the sight of their grandfather by the front door. Lilly's eyes are wide and Grace manages to utter, "Oh. Um… Hi."

"Hi Grace," Daniel greets them, a smile too wide to be considered genuine crossing his face. "Hi Lilly. How are you?"

"Good."

"Fine."

"Can you get Dad please?" Spencer asks and they both nod in unison, hurrying up the stairs. She turns back to Daniel to ask, "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Something to eat?"

"Oh no, no I'm fine. Really," Daniel insists. "I just thought I'd stop by and see how Henry was doing. And then, well… Toby had mentioned wanting to talk about something important and I thought, well, if it's important, why wait until dinner next week, right?"

Spencer stills but forces herself to nod. "Yeah. Right."

He seems to notice her hesitation, but because they've certainly never been close, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, Toby descends the front staircase, a wary look in his eyes, and greets his father cautiously. "Hey Dad. What are you doing here?"

"I came here to talk to you." Daniel replies. "And to check on Henry, of course. I'm glad he's okay."

Toby nods and Spencer takes this as an easy escape. "I'll give you two some privacy."

She places a reassuring hand on his bicep in passing and then she's gone. Toby exhales somewhat heavily before nodding towards the back of the house. "Let's um… Let's go out back."

Daniel nods his agreement and follows his son through the house and onto the back porch. It's the early afternoon and the sun burns brightly in the sapphire sky, its rays shining down upon their skulls, and Toby takes a moment to put up the umbrella on their outdoor table in an effort to keep the oncoming sunburn at bay. He, too, offers his father a drink and when Daniel once again denies this, the two sit down upon deck chairs in silence. Toby's not exactly sure how to broach this subject and no way in _hell_ is it ever going to come up organically. Luckily for him, Daniel opens with something trivial. "I'm really glad Henry's alright. You had me worried there."

"Yeah, us too, believe me," Toby nods. "It was pretty scary. It's definitely the sickest he's ever been."

"I don't know what's up with the Cavanaughs lately," Daniel sighs. "It's just one string of bad luck after another. First Jenna loses the baby and then poor Henry gets so sick… It really makes you wonder who has it out for us."

He wants to point out that Jenna isn't _technically_ a Cavanaugh, but instead, Toby finds himself saying, "I mean… They're not really comparable, in my opinion."

"Well, no, they're not the same, but in a way…" Daniel shrugs. "I don't know. I find it hard to believe that this stream of bad things is just a coincidence."

Toby glances at his father, then, and something, a switch within him, changes. He completely loses all the confidence he'd had previously as well as all the desire he'd possessed to tell his father the truth about Jenna. He wonders if there's even a point, now. It's been over two decades and though it's something that will stay with him, likely, for the rest of his life, it's also something he tries to push out of the forefront of his mind every single day. Telling his father, right here and now, would only do the exact opposite. And so, he inhales a deep breath, asks his father about Rosewood and Heather and his job and keeps him so busy talking, Daniel forgets all about the important talk they'd been meaning to have. He bids his farewell to the kids and his son, gets in his car and drives away, still none-the-wiser to his son's inner torment and Toby exhales heavily and comes face to face with his wife in the kitchen, fully prepared for the next round of their argument.

She's glancing at him expectantly and when he doesn't offer the information willingly, she prods, "So? How did it go?"

Toby frowns, hesitant, and suddenly can't stop picturing Jenna's hands on his body, can't stop smelling her awful perfume, can't stop feeling her breathy words in his ear- _I know you want this as much as I do_. He shakes his head rather violently, squeezing his eyes shut, and now he's picturing telling his father, relaying every last detail, and the look on Daniel's face is blank. He can't do this. He can't. And he doesn't want to; he's not sure why he ever thought this was a good idea. Telling Daniel may seem like the right idea, but this also means reliving every single moment of hell that had taken years and years of extensive therapy to vanquish from his mind. He's not sure he could ever go there; in fact, this is why even now, with Toby well into adulthood, his father still remains in the dark.

He doesn't even register that Spencer had moved from her spot until after her arms come around him in a comforting embrace. Automatically, he wraps his arms around her, too, and they're once again an unbreakable unit. She's the reason he's here today, he reminds himself. Spencer's the reason he'd pushed through the darkness and come out the other side. She's the sole reason he's ever been able to love and be loved in return. She kisses his shoulder through the cotton of his shirt and whispers softly, "It's okay. It's okay, Toby."

"You're not disappointed in me?" Toby asks, a bit surprised. "For not telling him?"

"Of course not," Spencer assures him. "If you don't want to tell him, or if you can't… If you aren't ready, then that's okay. Really, it is. It's not my decision nor is it my place to be irritated with you for making it. You know I support you no matter what."

Toby nods and holds her closer, admitting miserably, "I'm weak."

She's instantly shaking her head. "No you're not."

"I am," Toby sighs. "I was so ready to tell him. I went on and on to you about how I didn't care what he thought and then, in the moment that mattered most… I cared. I thought about what he'd say or what his expression would be and… I panicked. I chickened out. I couldn't tell him."

"It's okay," Spencer repeats. "You will eventually. I know you will."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you're the strongest person I know," Spencer professes. "And I have never doubted that strength even once."

Toby smiles. "Even now? Even though I couldn't do what I've been meaning to do my whole life?"

"Even now," Spencer confirms. "Everyone has moments of weakness, but they're fleeting, and the truth will come out when it comes out. I'm not worried. You shouldn't be, either."

"And if I am?"

"Well," She grins. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"


	22. my regrets and texts sent to taunt me

**Hello friends! Happy first day of autumn! Or, fall as we call it here in America because we're basic af and have to be different from the rest of the world. Hopefully everyone's doing well and life is treating you nicely! Apparently they only have three episodes left to shoot for PLL before the end finally comes, and I don't know about you guys, but even though I stopped watching and the show is a total shit show that needed to end yesterday... I still got kind of sad when I saw some of the girls posting their goodbyes to sets/characters/etc. Like, yeah, we'll all get our lives and our sanity back when it ends, but at the same time... It was such a big part of our lives. It's weird and sad to see it end.**

 **But also satisfying as hell, because it's so, so shitty right now. Anyway! Here's another chapter for you. I like to call this one A Tale of Bullying in Three Steps. :P The chapter title comes from "All Alright" by Fun. because you can never have too much Fun. There's a pun in there, somewhere. Kay lates.**

* * *

my regrets and texts sent to taunt me

"Do you think indoor recess is enough of a punishment?"

Toby smirks from the adjoining bathroom, pausing in brushing his teeth in order to make eye contact with his wife in the bathroom mirror. She doesn't see the humor in the situation, her expression stern and concerned. It's something he knows she's still struggling with, even five years into this; the line between being too firm with discipline and basically being a dictator with their kindergartener and being far too lenient and allowing her to rule the roost. Personally, Toby doesn't feel like they're on either end of the spectrum. Grace is a spitfire and has been from the moment she left the womb, which has meant they've had many, many chances to test their discipline skills and perhaps Spencer doesn't feel the same, but Toby's always believed they've handled her quite well. Without a doubt it's been the most difficult, exhausting journey they've ever embarked upon and it's often difficult to find an appropriate balance, but he's pretty sure they're figuring it out as best they can.

However, he can't pretend like today's events hadn't completely shocked the two of them from their comfortable positions as parents. Toby's sure he won't ever get the principal's words out of his head; _your daughter was the aggressor_. It doesn't sit well with him. Sure, the kid Grace had punched is a total shit, but he in no way wants to reinforce the idea that because someone is a total shit, they deserve to get punched in the face. The reasoning behind Grace's actions is probably the most admirable thing his young daughter has ever displayed, but her ministrations, on the other hand… It's all very conflicting. All throughout dinner, they had explained over and over again how terrible it is to inflict pain on another person and how they were proud she stood up for one of her best friends, but should never do it like that again and when they asked Grace what she'd learned, she'd replied with, "Sometimes people deserve to be punched in the face but that doesn't mean I should do it." Honestly, it had made Toby laugh, which of course encouraged Grace to laugh, which then in turn had utterly defeated the purpose of the entire conversation.

"Well," Toby points out, spitting toothpaste into the sink. "We also sent her to bed without dessert."

"Toby," Spencer whines. "She learned nothing. And you only encouraged her!"

"Oh, _I_ encouraged her, Miss I-Would've-Done-the-Same-Thing?" Toby replies and Spencer frowns. "She learned her lesson. Really. She seemed really upset with herself the moment she knew we were upset with her. And she apologized to Brady, so she knows what she did was wrong."

"Yeah," Spencer sighs and climbs into bed. "I just… I want her to _really_ know. To really understand that it's never okay to lay a hand on someone, regardless of how they're acting."

"She knows," Toby insists. "I really think she does. Look, Spence… She's _five_. She was upset and she reacted in a split second decision. If she had had time to think about it, if he hadn't been egging her on by keeping at it with his harsh words, do you think she would've done what she did?"

"No," Spencer admits. "She's a good kid. She's never hurt anyone."

"Exactly," Toby says. "Look, we all make split-second decisions that we regret after. It happens. I'm not saying it's right, because of _course_ it isn't. But we both talked to her about it and she apologized to all of us. She understands what she did was wrong. I think we need to accept that and try to move on."

"I just…" Spencer frowns. "I feel like I don't know how to handle this."

"What? Physical violence?"

"No," She shakes her head. "How to deal with a bully."

"Oh, well… I'm afraid I can't help you, there," Toby sighs, joining her in bed a moment later, reaching for the lamp at his bedside. "I certainly never handled it well."

"Everyone was always so mean to you," Spencer frowns and she gets that awful look in her eye again, the one filled with remorse and regret and heartache, the one that nearly ends him every time he sees it.

Toby shrugs. "Yeah. Kids can be cruel."

"Cruel? These people were downright _monsters_ ," Spencer disagrees. "Spray-painting your locker with false accusations? Filling it with shaving cream? Yelling death threats at you from moving vehicles?"

"Stepping on my lunch, pushing me down in the hallways so my books and papers went everywhere," Toby adds on. "Calling me crazy because my mother was, so, clearly, it had to be hereditary."

Spencer frowns. "Alison spread a rumor that you liked to…"

"I liked to what? Sacrifice squirrels?" Toby asks and then nods when she nods. "Yeah, I'd heard that one too. Honestly, name it Spencer; I've probably heard all the nasty things she's said about me."

"We didn't talk about you much," She admits regrettably. "Honestly, before high school… I didn't really know anything about you."

"Good," Toby says. "That's the way I preferred it. The fewer people who knew who I was, the better."

"You liked being invisible."

"It was just easier," Toby shrugs. "Not now, of course, this was years ago. But back then… If no one knew who you were, then no one could loosen the bolts on your desk chair so you fell on the floor when you sat down or hit you in the face, repeatedly, with a rubber ball in gym class or pour chocolate milk on your head on the school bus on the way home- curdled, of course, from sitting in a warm backpack all day so the chunks stick in your hair."

"That was _you?_ " Spencer's eyes are wide. "Jesus Christ, that story spread through the whole fucking school. I thought someone made it up."

"Yeah, no, one hundred percent true," Toby shakes his head. "I smelled like a rotting cow for at least a week."

"I'm so sorry," Spencer pleads, her eyes full of emotion. "I really wish I would've known. I really wish I could've done something for you."

"Struggle is God's way of strengthening," Toby recites. "That's what my mom always told me. Honestly, I wish she could've taken her own advice, but it really helped me through some rough times."

Spencer smiles slowly. "She was strong in her own way. She was strong for you."

"Yeah, she was," Toby agrees. "I wish I would've been stronger, though. My father's right; I was _such_ a weak kid. I couldn't even stick up for myself. I mean… I let _all_ of that happen. And I never fought back."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Spencer groans. "What if… What if today was just the beginning? What if Grace grows up to be a bully? What do we do? How do we _handle_ that?"

"Spencer, she's not going to be a bully," Toby shakes his head, refusing to even entertain the idea.

His wife, on the other hand, has a different idea. "No but… I can't help but freak out about this a little. You were tormented your entire young life and the _last_ thing I want is for my child to do the same thing all those asshole kids of Rosewood did to you."

"Spencer," Toby sighs. "She was not the instigator here. Do you know what I did to make those Rosewood kids pick on me?"

She frowns. "Nothing."

"Exactly," Toby replies. "I did nothing. I didn't talk to them. I didn't try to play with them, I kept to myself, spent recess alone, and spent most of the time drawing in my notebook. I minded my own fucking business and what did I get in return? Tortured. Brady, on the other hand, made a slew of homophobic comments about a friend of Grace's and she retaliated. She didn't seek this kid out. She didn't wake up this morning and think, 'Huh, you know what might be fun? Punching my classmate in the face.' She didn't go out of her way to hurt him. She just reacted. She isn't a bully. She's a kindergartener who got a little hotheaded and acted without thinking of the consequences."

"Yeah," Spencer nods, taking in his words. "Yeah, you're right. I'm being so stupid."

"You're not being stupid. I understand why you're worried," Toby assures her. "But you're right- she _is_ a good kid. And not only does she know how to stand up to bullies, unlike me, but she also realizes that what they're doing is wrong, so she's never going to become one. We don't have to worry about that."

"You're right. You're right," Spencer repeats and he tucks her into his side, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Ugh, I've been agonizing over this all day."

"I know you have," He chuckles the tiniest bit. "I mean, I get why you have, given everything that's happened to _you_."

"And you."

"Okay, to _us_ ," He corrects himself. "You're an amazing mother, Spencer. You love Grace. You care about Grace. And you want her to treat people with respect, you want her to be kind, but you also want her to stick up for herself and to be assertive. And you know what? She does all of that already. _You_ taught her that. You did, really. She's an amazing little girl and it's because she has an amazing mother."

"And father, Toby. Don't sell yourself short," Spencer is quick to include him. "I mean, it certainly wasn't all me. I didn't handle bullies well, either. Well, at all, actually. There was an older girl in elementary school… I don't even remember her name. She was awful to me for weeks. And I complained at the dinner table about it and my mother basically ignored me, saying girls were just jealous of me. My father said to, and I quote, 'handle it like adults,' and Melissa honestly just thought it was funny. Well, one day, this girl decided to get physical with me and out of nowhere, Melissa was there and she told her that if she touched me again, she'd choke her with a jump rope."

"Melissa is a borderline psychopath," Toby shakes his head, his eyes wide.

"Sociopath," Spencer corrects. "I believe she was bred, not born. Anyway, that was the last time she did anything nice for me, anyway. The next- and final- time someone bullied me was in sixth grade; some seventh grader was copying off of my tests and told me she'd get me kicked out of school if I told. Her aunt was the superintendent or something, I don't know-"

"Wait," Toby halts her. "Some seventh grader? But you said were in sixth grade."

Spencer shrugs. "I was in advanced classes."

"Right, I forgot I was married to Einstein for a second," Toby says and she rolls her eyes. "Sorry, continue."

"Well I made the mistake of telling my mother," Spencer concludes. "Which then of course resulted in her coming personally to the school to ream out my teacher- in front of the whole class, of course- for allowing the cheating to take place, the kid who was cheating off of me for being a good-for-nothing lowlife who was going nowhere, the principal and she probably made it to the Board of Education for all I know. She, no lie, threatened to sue the school if anything like that should ever happen again. And from then on, no one fucking bullied me ever again- until –A, obviously- because everyone was afraid of me. They thought I was this intense little weirdo and no one wanted to talk to me for fear of being screamed at and… Do you know how hard it was to do _anything_ in that school when you intimidated everyone? They thought I was scary."

Toby chuckles a bit, pulling her closer and assuring her, " _I_ never thought you were scary."

"You didn't even know me."

"No, not personally, but _everyone_ knew who you were. Sorry to disappoint."

"So what _did_ you think of me?"

"I thought you were this intense little weirdo."

She swats at him, attempting to pull out of their embrace, but they're tucked so expertly around one another, she eventually gives up. He grins and kisses her temple next. "I'm kidding. I didn't know anything about you, except that you were super smart and your parents were the best lawyers in town."

"With a _stellar_ home life and relationship with their children," Spencer bites back sarcastically and then groans a bit. "That's another thing I'm afraid of. That whole situation basically told me that I could never confide in mother about _anything_. And so… It's why I never told her about befriending Alison; she found out on accident. I never told her about dating you; she saw us kissing at the Founder's Festival. I never told her why we broke up or why I had a mental breakdown or why I relapsed with my addiction. I never told her about –A. I couldn't. I didn't trust her."

"And honestly Spencer- no disrespect to your mother or anything, but…" Toby sighs, trailing off for a moment before regaining his strength. "She never did much to earn your respect."

Spencer lifts her head from his chest to connect their eyes, a sad sort of smile on her face. "You're the only one who truly understands me. The only one who gets that; who's _ever_ understood that."

"So what you're afraid of," Toby grasps gently. "Is that you'll turn out like your mother and that Grace will be afraid to tell you things?"

"Yeah," Spencer exhales heavily. "I don't want her, or any other future children we may have, growing up afraid to tell me things because, I can tell you from personal experience, it's a lonely, isolating feeling. If she smoked or drank or… if she's struggling, I want to hear those things. I want to know about it because I want to help her. I want her to _know_ that I'll help her, no matter what. I don't want her to worry about being punished if she tells me the truth. I want her to be able to open up to me; I want her to feel _safe_ opening up to me, without fear or judgment. Because I never had that. If I ever told my parents anything, they'd always twist it around to make it my fault, somehow. And that's how I became the way I was- a liar. I don't want Grace to ever have to live like that. I want her to know that she can always come to me, that I'll always be there for her, and that I'll help her through anything; the good, the bad, all of it. Does that make sense?"

"Of course it does. And of course you want that; I want that, too," Toby agrees with her. "I mean, my dad was the same way. Your parents berated you and mine was so distant, so detached, that, in a way, _that_ felt like a punishment in itself. So… I never told him anything, either. Because… When you punish a child for their honesty…"

"They begin to lie," Spencer finishes and he nods.

"Yeah. They begin to lie." Toby repeats. "And I love Grace too much to allow her to grow up as a liar."

"No," Spencer shakes her head. "I won't let that happen."

"She's going to be a good kid," Toby says. "She already is. I mean, of course she'll make mistakes and slip up and get herself into trouble here and there. That's normal. That's natural."

"But she knows right from wrong," Spencer adds. "And we'll help her, too."

"Yeah, of course," Toby agrees. "And whether we like it or not, she's going to be a teenager someday and she's not going to tell us _everything_."

"No," Spencer laments the tiniest bit. "But she can. At least she'll know she can."

"Right," Toby nods. "And, as for bullies… Grace is a fighter. She won't take them lightly."

"And with any future kids…" Spencer trails off. "Well, we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

Toby yawns and settles into sleep, saying, "They'll probably be better with handling bullies than we were."

Spencer smirks and tightens her hold on him. "God, I fucking hope so."

* * *

"Hey Lil? Where's the fire?"

Toby glances at his eight-year-old, a bemused smile upon his face, and she pauses her hasty eating to chew and swallow roughly before asking, "What?"

"No one's going to steal your dinner, kiddo," He tells her and his son is quick to nod his agreement.

"Yeah, I don't want yours, Lilly," Henry says. "I don't even want mine."

Toby frowns. "Henry-"

"Dad, I don't like broccoli," Henry whines. "I don't like things that are green."

"Then eat your chicken."

"It _tastes_ funny!"

"Oh my god, you are _so_ annoying," Grace rolls her eyes from his other side. "Can't you just eat and shut up?"

"Grace. Not okay," Toby chastises. "We don't tell anyone to shut up, especially not our siblings. Henry, _don't you dare_."

The six-year-old had been edging his cup of water dangerously close to his sister's plate and with another inch, it would have easily spilled its contents into her lap. Her eyes narrow and she says, "If you don't eat your broccoli, your skin will turn green."

"No it _won't!_ " He wails. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is," Grace nods and points at his wrist. "Look! It's already starting!"

"Stop!"

"Guys, are you kidding me right now?" Toby shakes his head. "Can we get through _one_ meal without the two of you at each other's throats? I'm going to start making you eat your dinners separately."

"As long as I get to go first so I don't have to watch him chew with his mouth open," Grace says and grimaces at her brother's next few actions. "Or _peel the skin_ off of the chicken and eat the insides. You are _so_ disgusting."

"Nah uh," Henry disagrees and scoops the chicken skin into a pile with the rest of his untouched meal. "I like it like this."

In the midst of all this, Lilly finishes her meal and asks, "I'm done. Can I be excused?"

"Can _I_ be excused?" Henry then asks. "I have to do homework."

"I'm sure your coloring can wait."

"That's not what it is!"

"Grace, I do not want to hear another word out of your mouth unless it's an apology for the way you've been treating your brother. I mean it; this is the _last_ straw." Toby replies and Grace's mouth forms into a line as she obeys. "Lilly, yes babe, you can be excused and Henry, eat two more bites of chicken and at least three bites of broccoli. I won't make you finish it but you have to eat _something_."

Lilly pushes back from the table to bring her plate to the sink and for a moment, Toby revels in the silence, the only sounds emanating from the running water and the forks scraping against plates. Moments later, the garage door opens and shuts and Spencer enters through the laundry room, looking disheveled and disgruntled. "Of all the freaking nights to work late, right?"

"I'm sorry. They were ravenous," Toby says, eying their three munching children. "I waited for you."

"Oh you shouldn't have. We're going to be late now." Spencer says, tossing her purse and briefcase aside, kicking off her shoes and heading to the sink to wash her hands. They both fix themselves a plate and sit down to dinner as Lilly greets her mother excitedly with a hug.

"Hi Mommy. Did you have a good day?"

"I had an interesting day," Spencer replies and kisses Lilly's temple. "Did you? I'm excited to meet your teacher tonight."

"We made welcome signs for the classroom," Lilly says. "I have to tell you _all_ about it."

"Okay. Can you tell me while I scarf down some dinner?" Spencer asks and Lilly giggles and nods. The moment she sits down, Henry abandons ship and pulls himself into her lap. "Hi baby. How was your day?"

"I don't like broccoli," is his immediate response, and instead, he curls further into her lap and begins to toy with the Scrabble necklace around his mother's neck.

"You don't? Why not?"

"They're like little trees." Henry says. "You're not supposed to eat trees."

"Oh, but they're very good for you," Spencer says. "They'll help you grow big and strong."

"Like Daddy?" Henry asks hopefully and Spencer grins.

"Yup. Just like Daddy."

Toby smirks and watches as Henry reaches out and takes a tentative bite of broccoli from his mother's plate, unsurprised that she had convinced him to try it. Spencer kisses his crown before glancing at the end of the table, where her eldest child is sulking moodily. "Hi Grace. Everything okay down there?"

Grace nods and doesn't glance up, but she murmurs, "Can I be excused?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees and the teenager is gone in a flash. In her absence, Spencer turns to her husband to ask, "What was that all about?"

"She was having a hard time finding something nice to say to her brother," Toby replies. "We were not having an easy meal time before you showed up."

Spencer smirks. "Do we ever?"

Moments later, as Spencer's frantically packing leftovers and Toby's hurrying around the kitchen, wiping down the table and clearing the dishes, Lilly's perched at the kitchen counter explaining every last detail to her mother about their upcoming classroom visit. "She's probably going to talk about how third grade is really hard, but you don't have to worry, okay, because it hasn't been any harder than second grade yet."

"Okay," Spencer smiles, sealing a Tupperware container. "How did you know I was going to worry?"

"Because you always worry," Lilly shrugs. "And then she's going to tell you about the science fair we're having in March but that's a long time from now and I think I know what I want to do."

"Okay," Spencer nods again. "Toby, are you getting all of this?"

"Definitely. Making a mental note to remember."

"And I think she'll tell you about specials," Lilly says. "And probably about switching classes for math and science, but-"

"Henry!" Grace's voice interrupts seconds later and she reappears in the kitchen. "Did you take my sketchbook?"

"I needed to borrow some paper," Henry replies quietly, wary of his sister's actions now. "I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, but I need it. I have an art project due tomorrow and I didn't even start," Grace says and he hands it over, but not before she catches sight of the worksheet before him. "What is that?"

"Dragon math," Henry shrugs. "We're doing harder stuff now, see? The subtraction with the big numbers is hard."

Grace sinks into the chair beside him and asks, "Do you need any help?"

He asks, "But what about your art project?"

"I've got time," Grace says and the two put their heads together to solve the difficult equations.

Spencer grins at the sight and turns to her husband to say, "See? She loves him. She was just being a little shit, before."

"She's fourteen," Toby points out. "That's prime 'little shit' territory, isn't it?"

His wife chuckles before turning to their middle child. "Lilly my love, everything's going to be okay, alright? Daddy and I are _super_ excited to meet your teacher. I'm sure she's going to have nothing but great things to say about you."

Lilly nods and Toby agrees, assuring her, "Everyone always does."

"Okay, Grace, you have our numbers, do not open the front door for _anyone_ , don't answer the phone unless it's one of us, okay?" Spencer then asks. "We won't be out late, so you don't have to put them to bed or anything, but _please_ just be safe and be responsible."

"Leave the door unlocked, let anybody inside, allow them to have all the candy and ice cream they want so they're sugar high when you get home," Grace nods. "Got it."

Spencer purses her lips. "It's not too late for me to find a babysitter."

"Mom, it was a _joke_ ," Grace rolls her eyes. "You're going to be gone for, like, what? An hour? Two? It's fine. Just go."

"Call us with any problems," Toby reaffirms. "Seriously. I've already locked all the doors, but-"

"Dad," Grace whines. "You're supposed to be the chill one. You both are being crazy. Just go!"

"Good luck," Lilly calls as they head for the door following hugs and kisses for all of their children.

"Thank you. I don't think we'll need it, honey," Toby smiles. "Grace is in charge. Make sure you're listening to her and-"

"Okay."

"Bye."

The door swings shut behind them and for a moment, they don't quite know how to react. After a beat, Spencer says, "Oh my god. They don't need us."

"Spencer-"

"No, I mean, Grace used to always get super weirdly quiet whenever we'd go and Lilly would cry and cry and Henry got _so_ clingy…" Spencer shakes her head. "Why do I suddenly see them graduating college and getting married and having kids of their own?"

Toby smirks. "Because that's what happens. You blink. They grow up."

"I hate that. I'm permanently stitching my eyes open."

He chuckles and holds the car door open for her and they drive off into the night, heading for the elementary school. All in all, the open house goes very well. They meet the principal inside the auditorium and he tells the entire parent body how excited he is for the upcoming school year. When they break off to go to their respective classrooms, they head for the third grade wing, upstairs this year, and find Lilly's classroom, sitting down right behind her desk and instantly marveling at how impeccably neat she's kept everything. Her teacher tells all the parents how delighted she is to have each one of their children in her class, informs them about the school year's upcoming events and lessons, and then asks to speak to each set individually. It takes only a moment, as she goes alphabetically, for their turn to arise, and soon, Mrs. Gallagher is singing Lilly's praises. She's wonderfully bright, sweet, a sheer joy to have in class; all things they've heard before and all things, Toby's sure, he'll never tire of hearing.

"I do have a few concerns, however," Mrs. Gallagher says next, her smile fading just a bit. "I'm sure I'm not the first to inform you of how painfully, painfully shy your daughter is."

"You aren't," Spencer frowns as though she's been expecting this. "We've been trying _so_ hard to help her out in that area. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, I actually spoke to her teachers from the previous years and from what I hear, she's made a _huge_ improvement," Mrs. Gallagher says. "Whether it's what you're doing or if she's slowly coming out of her shell by her own accord, by all means, continue doing so."

"Oh," Spencer sighs. "Okay. That actually makes me feel a lot better."

"What I do want to talk about, however, is another girl in the class. Alyssa Matthews," Mrs. Gallagher says. "I'm sure Lilly's told you all about her."

Toby wonders if he's the only one out of the loop, but when he glances at his wife, her confusion mirrors his. "No. No, Lilly hasn't mentioned her. A friend of hers?"

"No, unfortunately. Quite the opposite," Mrs. Gallagher frowns. "It seems that Alyssa has become quite the class bully and, unfortunately, your daughter has become the target. She'll call her names, taunt her on the playground, take her things- lunches, most recently, but also pencils and papers and crayons from her desk. It isn't something we take lightly and we've punished her every time we've noticed it. We've reached out to her parents as well. But we also wanted to speak with you about it and make sure you were aware. And, of course, make sure Lilly was okay."

Again, Toby glances at his wife and the look on her face is one of horror. He can't imagine his face looks any different. "Thank you."

"Have they replied?" Spencer asks. "You said you reached out to her parents. Have they responded? Are they here now?"

"They don't appear to have shown up, no," Mrs. Gallagher frowns. "We're trying to convey to them how serious of a matter this is. Bullying is not tolerated at this school. If Alyssa's behavior continues, we will have to remove her from the classroom."

"Thank you," Toby nods. "Thank you for taking it seriously."

Spencer nods but adds, "I'd like to speak to them. Alyssa's parents, I mean."

Mrs. Gallagher nods, too. "You and me both, Mrs. Cavanaugh."

The drive home is silent. They sit in the garage long after they've arrived home and parked, unable to disembark and face the music. After a long, long period of silence, Spencer begins to shake her head, her face in her hands. "Oh my god. Why didn't she tell us? What do we do?"

Honestly, Toby doesn't know; he's never felt more helpless and defeated in all his life. "I don't know how she does it."

"Does what? Teach that little monster without strangling her?" Spencer asks. "That's wrong of me, isn't it? It's wrong to wish bodily harm on an eight-year-old."

"Not Mrs. Gallagher. Lilly," Toby corrects her. "I don't know how Lilly can just… Go on like nothing's wrong. I mean, I had no idea she was being bullied and neither did you. She's just as sweet and helpful and happy as always. How the hell does she do that?"

"I don't know," Spencer sighs. "Maybe she's compartmentalizing her feelings."

"She's eight!"

"Toby, I don't know, okay?" Spencer replies. "All I know is that my baby girl is being bullied by some eight-year-old terror and we're doing nothing about it because we had _no_ idea. We're supposed to know these things! We're her parents!"

"Yeah, but guess what, Spencer? Kids don't tell their parents everything. You know that," Toby tells her and she exhales heavily. "We'd deluded ourselves into thinking our kids wouldn't be like that and it was nice while it lasted, but it obviously isn't true."

"Why is she being picked on?" Spencer asks miserably. "Because she's quiet? Because she's different? Because she's an easy target?"

"I don't know," Toby says. "I'll talk to her, okay? I'll figure this whole thing out."

"Good. I don't think I can do it yet." Spencer replies. "I don't think I can do it without losing it. I just… I just want to _cry_ for her."

"You don't have to." Toby tells her and at her look, he insists, "Seriously, you don't. She might look and sometimes act like a delicate little flower, but you and I both know she isn't made of porcelain. The fact that she can still be herself through this whole thing without crumbling proves she isn't."

Reluctantly, Spencer agrees and they finally disembark from the car. The house is quiet when they enter, the light over the stove always kept on superstitiously, first by Spencer and now by their children. They hear voices upstairs and, after once again triple checking the locks, they head that way. Grace and Henry are laughing hysterically at something on the screen of Spencer's laptop, their arguments from earlier on completely gone, and Spencer heads towards them in order to get them wrangled in for bed as Toby continues further down the hall, in search of their middle child. Lilly's propped up against her pillows devouring a chapter book, her hair damp from a shower, and eyelids drooping though she forces herself to continue on, never satiated when it comes to reading. When she spots her father, she places a bookmark in the spine and sets the book on her bedside table, immediately anxious.

"Daddy! You're back!" She exclaims. "What happened? Was she nice? Did you like her?"

"I did. She was _super_ nice and she loves you, sunshine," Toby tells her, taking a seat right beside her as her tiny body sags with relief. "She was very excited to tell Mommy and me all about how smart you are and how helpful you are and how you are a such a wonderful little girl to have in class."

Lilly beams but says, "She probably says that about everyone, don't you think?"

"No way," Toby disagrees. "Mom and I know that we have the best little girl in the world and now Mrs. Gallagher does, too."

"Daddy," Lilly giggles. "Not in the _whole_ world."

"Yeah, the entire world." He teases her. "She told us that you're going to start your unit on electricity soon and that you are very excited about your project. And she said you might get to move to a higher math class?"

"We have to take a test first," Lilly explains. "I don't like math but I'm good at it."

"Of course you are. You're so smart. I'm so, so proud of you, honey," Toby tells her and when she smiles, he almost considers not bringing up the next matter at hand. "Mrs. Gallagher also told us about something else, though, that I wanted to ask you about."

Lilly is, easily, the most observant, the most intuitive, of their three children and instantly, her smile fades. She asks, warily, "About what?"

Toby inhales a deep breath and asks, as gently as he can, "Do you want to tell me about Alyssa Matthews?"

Lilly immediately averts her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest protectively. "What do you want to know about her?"

"What is she doing to you?"

"She's mean but I think it's because she doesn't have any friends," Lilly explains. "No one sits with her at lunch and no one plays with her at recess. She says bad words in class. She doesn't do her homework and gets sent to the principal's office. I think people are scared of her."

Toby nods. "And what does she do to you?"

Lilly shrugs. "She pushes me down sometimes. She breaks my pencils."

"Mrs. Gallagher says she takes your lunches," Toby then says. "Is that true?"

Lilly frowns and says, "I don't want you to be mad at me."

"Lil, I won't be mad at you," Toby insists. "This is not your fault."

"Her mom doesn't pack her lunch and she doesn't have money to buy."

"That doesn't make it okay for her to take yours," Toby frowns. "Wait a minute, is this why you've been so hungry at dinner lately? You're not eating lunch?"

Lilly looks as though she's ready to burst into tears at any moment. Toby sighs and pulls her closer. "Lilly, honey, we're going to fix this. It's not okay for her to do this to you. Do you ever tell her that?"

"I asked her to share my lunch," Lilly says. "She said no."

"Have you told a teacher or a lunch monitor or anyone?"

"No," Lilly shakes her head furiously. "She says she'll hurt me if I do that."

"Okay," Toby says. "Do you want me to talk to her? Or her parents or your teacher? What can I do to help you?"

"Daddy, no!" Lilly shrieks. "That'll make it worse!"

"Then how do you want to handle this?" Toby asks. "This can't keep going on like this."

Lilly thinks for a moment before asking, "Can you make me two lunches tomorrow?"

Toby frowns. "Lillian Rose…"

"No, I'm going to talk to her, but I have to be her friend, first," Lilly says. "People tell their friends everything and she's never had one before."

The moment Toby tells this to Spencer, his wife explodes. "Who _is_ this kid? How do I reach that level of nirvana?"

He erupts into laughter. "Babe, I have no idea. When I asked her to tell me what was going on, she was afraid I was going to be mad at her. Mad at her! For getting bullied!"

"I seriously do not understand her, sometimes," Spencer shakes her head. "I don't know how she does it. I don't know how she can be this… _okay_ with everything."

"She is the most easygoing person I know," Toby says. "An eight-year-old. An eight-year-old is the most easygoing person I know. I cannot grasp that."

"I thought _you_ were easygoing," Spencer then says as they ready themselves for bed. "But she's just blowing you out of the water, here. I mean… She's going to befriend her? She doesn't have many friends to begin with and she's going to start with this little shit?"

"Spencer, you're badmouthing someone else's kid."

"It's okay. I already hate myself for it."

Toby frowns. "Should we try and contact her parents?"

"Yes," Spencer agrees immediately. "I don't think this problem is going to solve itself with an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some animal crackers."

"If it does," Toby counters. "Our kid's going to make millions."

The next day, Grace stays after school for drama club tryouts and Toby's home to greet the younger two off the bus. Henry is talking a mile a minute about every tiny aspect of his day and laughs and hops excitedly as they head back towards the house. Lilly is, as always, exceptionally quiet. As he makes them each an after school snack, Toby occupies his son and then turns to ask Lilly, "How did it go today, Lil? With Alyssa?"

"Not good," Lilly shakes her head. "I can't be her friend. I don't want to."

"What happened?" Toby asks and takes a seat beside her, bracing himself.

"She took one of my lunches and ate it and then took the other one and stepped on it," Lilly sighs. "She's just mean. You can't be friends with someone who's mean."

Toby frowns. "I need to talk to her parents now."

"Mrs. Gallagher already did today," Lilly says. "I told her what she did to my lunch and so the lunch ladies gave me a free one and they took Alyssa to the principal's office. I tried to be nice! I really did!"

"Honey, you were," Toby replies, impressed. "And that was very, very brave of you to tell the teacher. I know you were afraid to or that you didn't want to. But I'm glad you did. I'm glad you told someone."

"It didn't make me feel better at first," Lilly admits. "It made my stomach hurt. But Mrs. Gallagher told me they're going to put her in a different class. And that's good for me. And for everyone because she's so mean."

Toby smiles and asks, "Did I ever tell you that I was bullied?"

Lilly's eyes widen. "You were?"

"Oh yeah. My whole life." Toby nods. "And it never got any better because I never told anybody. But you did. You asked for help. And that makes you so, _so_ much braver than me. I'm very proud of you."

Lilly smiles and says, "I did a good thing, then? I feel bad because she has to start a whole new class now."

"Honey, you have nothing to feel bad about," Toby insists. "You did a good thing. You did a _great_ thing. What Alyssa did and said to you was not okay and she needs to learn that. She needs to learn how to treat people with respect. And now she will."

Lilly nods and says, "Okay."

"Okay?" Toby wonders and when Lilly nods again, he hugs her closer and kisses her crown. "Wait until we tell Mom. She'll be _so_ proud. We're both trying to figure out how you got to be so strong and brave."

"From you guys," Lilly answers wisely. "Right? That's where I learned it from."

The very idea leaves Toby in awe for the rest of the night.

* * *

It's a crisp afternoon in early October, a Saturday, and they make plans to go to the local orchard for a little fall family fun. Spencer fully expects Grace to protest; at sixteen, there isn't much "family fun" that doesn't elicit a complaint from their eldest, these days, as she'd much prefer to spend time with her gaggle of friends or her recent boyfriend. However, not so much as a word comes out of her mouth at the prospect of their trip to the farm and she is, instead, uncharacteristically quiet all throughout breakfast. Their other two children are quite the opposite; Lilly decides she's brave enough this year to try the corn maze on for size and Henry cannot stop talking about how excited he is for the hayride to the pumpkin patch, claiming he already knows how he's going to carve his for the season.

They pick apples first and Lilly begs her mother to help make a pie with them when they get home, and, all for mother-daughter bonding time, Spencer hastily agrees. There's a demonstration on how bees make honey and a hands-on make-your-own-cider event happening inside the barn, something everyone tries, save for Grace, who remains just out of reach, eyes glued to her cell phone. In fact, it's something that remains constant throughout the afternoon; when the rest of the family enters the corn maze to take on the daring twists and turns, Grace decides she'd rather pass, and instead, her fingers go back to flying across the screen of her phone. They manage to con her onto the hayride to the pumpkin patch, but she doesn't give her opinion on her siblings' pumpkins despite being asked for it and she chooses her own lazily. She looks so incredibly frustrated, so unhappy, and Spencer wonders is this just typical teenage angst? Or is it something else?

On the drive home, she remains silent while her siblings talk of nothing but their fall fun. Henry asks if he can help his father rake the leaves outside when they arrive home and Toby agrees, the two heading for the lawn and ready for action. Spencer and Lilly get to work on the pie, preheating the oven and hand-mixing the ingredients for the crust and then flouring the countertop, rolling out the dough. She teaches her daughter how to properly peel and core an apple and, moments later, Lilly does one of her own almost perfectly. Her kids are such fast learners and it never ceases to amaze her. When the pie is baking, Lilly spends a bit watching the crust slowly rise before growing bored and retreating outside, where Henry is jumping into more piles of leaves than he's raking and Toby's laughing at his antics, head thrown back. From the kitchen, Spencer watches this play out from the window above the sink, up to her elbows in soapy dishwater, and as it always does, it makes her heart swell. She lives for days and moments like these.

"Mom? Can I ask your opinion on something?"

Turning around, she finds Grace in the doorway of the kitchen, still looking so miserable but trying desperately to hide it. Spencer nods quickly, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Of course. What's up?"

Grace sighs and then sinks into a kitchen chair, her chin immediately finding her open palms. "Never mind."

"Don't do that to me," Spencer pleads and takes the adjacent seat, reaching forward to whisk some hair out of her face. "What did you want to talk about? Is something bothering you?"

"No. I can't tell you." Grace shakes her head. "It's way too embarrassing."

"Hey," Spencer disagrees. "I am your mother. You can tell me anything."

"No, it's literally life-ruining," Grace says, and at her mother's incredulous look, she adds, "Don't call me dramatic. I'm so serious."

"I believe you. I'm not judging," Spencer says. "You're not pregnant are you?"

" _Mom!_ "

"I'm sorry! But you and I _just_ had this talk a few months ago and I'm your mother. I have to ask," Spencer insists. "It's much more awkward for me, believe me."

"Doubt it," Grace disagrees. "Did Grandma ever ask you if _you_ were pregnant?"

"Please, your grandmother isn't observant in the _slightest_ ," Spencer shakes her head. "I could've actually _been_ pregnant and she still wouldn't have asked."

Grace grins. "She trusted you way too much."

"You're telling me." Spencer agrees. "Do you think I'd ever let you go to Liam's house unsupervised? Or spend the night?"

"Mom!" Grace exclaims, scandalized. "You _spent the night_ at Dad's house? When you were a teenager?"

"Well, he had his own place. It was a different time."

"That is unbelievable," Grace shakes her head. "And kind of gross and I wish I didn't bring this up."

"You didn't," Spencer chuckles. "I did. Tell me what's going on."

Grace exhales a dramatic sigh before saying, "Olivia Keller is a huge bitch."

Spencer purses her lips but nods. "Okay, you're going to need to walk me through that."

"I'm class president," Grace says. "As you know."

"I do. I helped you make the signs."

"My campaign posters," Grace corrects her mother, who smirks. "But when I won, someone had to be made vice president and that someone was Olivia Keller."

"Ah, she ran against you, right?" Spencer asks and when Grace nods, she continues, "Wait, but wasn't she excited for you? You two planned the entire homecoming dance together. It was all you talked about for weeks."

"Exactly my point! We were friends!" Grace shrieks. "So I don't understand where all the backstabbing, rumor-spreading _bullshit_ is coming from!"

"Grace, honey, I know you're mad right now, but can you _please_ tone it down with the swearing?" Spencer scolds. "Please. I'm going to start having _you_ donate to the Swear Jar."

Grace frowns. "I learned it from you."

"Oh don't start," Spencer rolls her eyes. "Now you sound like your father."

"Okay, okay, fine. The hallowed halls of high school definitely don't _help_ the sailor-mouthed," Grace says. "But honestly. She's a terrible person. I want her impeached."

"I don't think that's possible in a high school government setting," Spencer chuckles. "Explain to me why she's a horrible person."

"I _hate_ her."

"Grace, that's not an explanation and we do not hate people."

"Maybe _you_ don't hate people. I, however, hate Olivia Keller."

"Because?"

"Because!" Grace exclaims. "Because to my face, she's my best friend and she's asking me how Liam and I are doing and she's acting like she wants to be included in everything I do with the girls and we sit together at lunch and we're lab partners and everything. We hold class council together and make the announcements and we're both on prom committee and there's no issue. But behind my back, she's a two-faced _bitch_ \- sorry- who says that I stole Liam from her and that I'm actually not good enough to play the lead in the musicals but Mr. Franklin feels sorry for me and so he casts me anyway and that I rigged the election so I'd win and take the presidency away from her. And… I can't repeat the other thing. It's truly heinous."

Spencer frowns and she's beginning to hate this Olivia Keller, too. "Repeat what other thing?"

"She spread this rumor," Grace admits reluctantly but shakes her head. "I can't. It's too embarrassing. Too _disgusting_."

"You can tell me."

"No, believe me, I really can't."

There's a shriek of greeting from outside and both girls glance up in surprise. In the yard, Lilly and Henry are now playing with Frankie, Jason and Aria's son, and Toby's in conversation with the former. Grace asks, "Uncle Jason's here?"

"Wait, keep going," Spencer attempts to draw her mind back to the conversation at hand, despite the sudden appearance of her brother. "If she's still acting like your best friend, how do you know she's betraying you?"

"She's on Brynn's softball team," Grace says. "She apparently was telling them about how fake I am and about how my perfect appearance is just an act and that one day, she's going to expose me for who I really am. I _hate_ her!"

"And then the rumor she spread. What was it?"

Suddenly, the door from the garage opens and Aria pokes her head in, asking, "Anybody home?"

"Hey," Spencer greets her friend warmly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Jason's got a mind like a sieve, so he decided today, two years later, was the perfect time to return Toby's toolbox." Aria rolls her eyes. "He only needed it for maybe twenty minutes and yet, it's been sitting in our garage ever since."

Spencer smirks. "I'd forgotten he even borrowed it."

"Apparently, so did he," Aria laughs and then grins over at the younger member. "Hi Grace. How are you?"

"Okay. How are you?" Grace returns and when Aria confirms the positive, she adds, "Did you bring Harper?"

"No, I'm sorry. She's at her piano lesson," Aria replies and to Grace's frown, says, "I'll tell her you missed her."

"I'm going through an emotional crisis," Grace corrects, standing. "I could use her right now."

"An emotional crisis?" Aria asks and looks to Spencer, who nods. "That sounds intense. Everything okay?"

"It's fine," Grace shrugs. "Just some pointless, jealous girl whose dreams I have to crush."

She steps out of the house, outside, to greet her uncle and at Aria's alarmed look, Spencer adds, "She's exaggerating. I hope."

"Well, she's always had a proclivity for the dramatics," Aria agrees and occupies the seat Grace had originally taken. "But it sounds kind of serious. Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Spencer says, a bit wistfully. "I think… I think she found herself an Alison."

Aria's eyes widen. "Are you kidding? That's our worst nightmare."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Spencer agrees. "She keeps telling me about this girl Olivia who is her best friend to her face and then tears her down behind her back. She's spreading some nasty rumors about her… All she needs now is blonde hair, a psycho-stalker and a strange obsession with Vladimir Nabokov and we've got ourselves an Ali clone."

"Olivia?" Aria says, thinking a moment. "Olivia Keller?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Spencer asks. "Oh God, she's not trolling Harper too, is she?"

"No, but Harper's mentioned her a couple of times," Aria says. "Apparently, this is how she gets. She goes through friends left and right because the _second_ they do something better than her, she turns on them."

"Sounds like a _great_ plan. Really healthy way to make and keep friendships," Spencer spews sarcastically and then frowns. "So why'd she pick my kid?"

Aria smirks. "Are you kidding? _Of course_ she'd pick Grace. Your daughter owns that school."

It makes her uncomfortable every time she hears it. "She does _not_. You aren't the first one to say that and I hate that idea. It makes her sound like… Well, like _Alison_."

"No, no, no, I don't mean it in a bad way! No!" Aria is quick to clarify. "I mean, look… She's president of everything, she's the lead in the school plays most of the time, she plays tennis and field hockey and she's genuinely interested in what people have to say and in changing things about the school that need changing. She has friends everywhere; in the preps, in the jocks, in the thespians, and in the in-betweens. Basically, the _whole_ school is going to back her so of course Olivia would pick her and that makes it a really, really dumb decision."

"Huh," Spencer considers this. "I'd never thought of it like that."

"Because you were too busy thinking of it as an insult, but it's not. It's a compliment; it's a _huge_ compliment," Aria says. "No one fucks with Grace Cavanaugh. You'd be stupid to try."

Spencer shakes her head. "She's not mean about it. She'll fight for those she believes in."

"Of course she's not and of course she will," Aria says. "Because she has great parents, unlike Alison's shitty ones."

Spencer grins. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Don't worry about her, honestly," Aria says. "One annoying teenage girl is not going to tear your kid down."

"Well then I guess we're lucky she's nothing like me in that area," Spencer says. "Because one annoying teenage girl certainly tore me down."

"Yeah, and me, too," Aria agrees. "Have you heard from her lately?"

"She sent Henry a birthday card," Spencer shrugs. "That was in August. There was a gift card for Toys R Us in it for $100. I could've killed her. What does an eight-year-old need that much money for?"

"She's always doing stupid shit like that," Aria shakes her head. "She likes to show up at our house, unannounced, stay for a week or two and then just disappear. Last time she was here was Fourth of July weekend, I think? She told Harper all about Ezra and dyed Frankie's hair. I was _murderous_."

"She dyed his hair?" Spencer exclaims. "What color?"

"Did you not hear the part where she told Harper about Ezra?" Aria exclaims. "Ezra, Spence!"

"Yeah, I know who he is," Spencer smirks, bemused. "What ever happened to him?"

"He has two children by two different women and still texts me on my birthday," Aria rolls her eyes. "Why didn't you talk me out of that, again?"

"I tried! You're the most stubborn person on this planet."

The garage door bangs open, then, crashing against the wall of the laundry room and Grace stalks through, her face red. She's fuming when she exclaims, "She's dead. She's _freaking_ dead."

"Oh no," Spencer says. "What did she do this time?"

"She sent me a text saying, 'Hey girl! You wanna hang?' and so I texted back, because I'm _so_ done with her, 'Actually no. I've heard what you're saying about me and it's not exactly friendly'." Grace says. "That was civil, right?"

"Yeah," Aria agrees. "Mature, too."

"Thank you," Grace nods. "But then she _explodes_ and is like, 'I didn't do anything but expose the real you. Maybe you should be worried why everyone was so quick to believe it.' And so I'm like, 'Believe what? The lies you're spreading?' And she goes, 'Everyone knows the truth now. It's not my fault you're such a lying slut. I'm just trying to be a friend, sweetie'. I'm going to _kill_ her!"

Spencer's blood is boiling. _It's not my fault you're such a lying slut_. She's sure she won't ever hear the end of this story, because she'll be in prison for murdering this sixteen-year-old. Luckily, Aria speaks next, because Spencer's so angry she cannot even form a sentence. "You've only had one boyfriend your entire life _and_ you've only been dating a few months. Where does she get off calling you… _that_?"

"It's that stupid freaking rumor she's been spreading," Grace groans. "It's so embarrassing and life-ruining and what if she's right? What if people are believing it?"

"Believing what?" Aria asks gently. "What is it that she's saying?"

"No, you know what? They wouldn't believe that," Grace disagrees with herself, shaking her head and thumbing through her phone again. "People _know_ me. They know what I'm like. I'm fine. Probably. Maybe. I don't know."

"What's the rumor, Grace?"

"Aria, I love you," Grace says. "But even though you're my aunt, I feel _super_ weird telling you. And Mom looks like she's going to explode, so this probably isn't the best time."

"I'm fine," Spencer disagrees, but her voice betrays her and comes out strangled. "You can tell me. You can tell us."

Grace considers this a moment before breaking down. "You have to know it isn't true. Like, one hundred percent completely false."

"Of course it isn't, honey," Spencer assures her. "I believe you. I'll always believe you."

"We have this new Spanish teacher, Señor Velásquez, and he got lost on his first day trying to find the language wing, so I helped him out," Grace explains, her eyes trained heavily on the kitchen table before her. "He's really cute and he has this amazing accent and he's probably fresh out of college, like twenty-five or twenty-six, so not much older than us and everyone talks about dating him because, hello, we're teenage girls and who _hasn't_ had the occasional crush on their teacher?"

Spencer's eyes widen. She can sense- and she imagines Aria can, too- where this is heading. "Oh no."

"So I gave him directions and he was so appreciative," Grace continues. "And then the next time I saw him was, like, a week later and he still remembered me. I was with Olivia at the time and he came up to me and thanked me immensely and asked how my classes were going and if I was having a good day, you know. And so I asked if his classes were going well and if he needed anything else, anymore help, and he thanked me again, told me he was good, and left. And Olivia said, I remember, 'You're _so_ lucky. I wish he'd talk to me. I wish he knew _me_ by name!' And I was like, 'Whatever. I just gave him directions.' And then… She's spreading this rumor, now, that he and I are… are… _sleeping together_."

"No," Spencer emits and her voice sounds low, raw, animalistic. Aria's gone very white beside her. "No she didn't."

"It's _humiliating_ ," Grace shrieks. "I am not sleeping with _anyone_ \- not even my boyfriend, not yet- and even if I was, what business is it of hers to know?"

"None," Spencer seethes. "She doesn't get to make that choice; _you_ do."

"And with a _teacher?_ A teacher that isn't even my own because I'm taking French and Latin?" Grace shouts. "How _ridiculous_ would it be if I were shacking up with a _teacher_? Do you know disgusting and, frankly, illegal that is? I'd have to be an _idiot_!"

"Okay, okay," Spencer tries to hurry the conversation's end, for poor Aria has fallen so, so silent. "We've got it, Grace. I think you need to-"

"I mean, what the hell is this, _Lolita_?" Grace continues. "Newsflash- that book isn't sexy, it's _horrifying_. He's a pedophile that's basically raping a child. There's nothing okay about that situation."

Through Grace's rant, Aria suddenly says, "I think I'm going to get Jason and Frankie and go."

"I am _so_ sorry," Spencer says and why, she doesn't know. She's never been able to control what comes out of this child's mouth.

"No, you know what? It's fine," Aria says. "I, honestly, could've used Grace's no-nonsense approach way back when. Could've saved me from making some terrible mistakes."

"She has gone way too freaking far with this one. I'm done," Grace announces and dials Olivia's number expertly, taking a few deep and calming breaths. "I thought I could just ignore her bullshit but she's just taken that as a challenge to be more vocal."

Aria smirks and says, "Don't ever say this kid isn't like you. She could be your twin."

"You sound like my husband," Spencer smiles. "Hey, I take pride in the fact that my daughter takes no one's bullshit."

"Grandpa always says you should go through life kicking ass and taking names," Grace says, her phone pressed to her ear. "And I always thought that was totally stupid. I mean, why be intentionally mean to someone? It's only going to create enemies. But I tried talking to Olivia my way and it got me nothing, so no more Mrs. Nice Girl. It's time to be a Hastings; Grandpa will be so proud."

"Oh God," Spencer groans. "That's it. She's never seeing my parents again."

Aria laughs and bids her farewell, wishes Grace luck, and then steps outside to wrangle her family together. After a long moment of silence, Olivia's voicemail must pick up, because Grace rolls her eyes and exhales heavily, saying, "Oh, what a surprise. You aren't picking up your phone. That's so weird considering you _just_ texted me five minutes ago. Listen- enough with your two-faced, passive-aggressive bullshit. If you have a problem with me, come talk to me face to face, because that's what _grown-ups_ do. You are acting like a total child and I'm not going to sit around and just let you shit all over my reputation. Your rumors are wildly inaccurate and way too outlandish to be plausible. I'm sorry that you have nothing better to do with your time than attack me, but maybe if you'd channeled all this energy into your class presidential campaign, you wouldn't have lost. I am going to be at class council on Monday morning and I look forward to seeing you there so we can discuss our plans for the winter formal, but if you haven't changed your attitude, don't bother showing up, because honestly, we can all do just fine without you. I think we can still be friends as long as you decide you're done with the backstabbing, but if you aren't, then you better bring your A game, because you're messing with the wrong bitch."

With a huff of anger, Grace hangs up, her chest heaving. Spencer stares at her daughter in shock and Grace frowns. "I was just as bad as her, wasn't I?"

"Are you kidding me? I want to give you a standing ovation," Spencer says and at her daughter's look, she insists. "Seriously! That was incredible. I am so in awe of you right now."

"Why?" Grace whines miserably. "I had to be mean. I had to stoop to _her_ level. I feel like such a terrible person right now."

"No, honey. You didn't stoop to her level at all," Spencer disagrees, standing and coming to her side. "There was no name-calling, no rumor-spreading, no catty nonsense. You didn't threaten her with physical violence or emotional abuse. You did have to get a little firm with her, but that's okay. That's what she needed to hear to know you were serious and that you were done taking her crap."

Grace sighs. "I was hoping it would make me feel better, but I don't. I still feel so… angry and embarrassed. And annoyed. I didn't want to be mean."

"You aren't," Spencer assures her. "You're one of the sweetest, kindest people I know. You have always had your father's big heart and I've always, _always_ admired that in you."

"Really?"

"Of course," Spencer nods. "And right there? What you did? It was so impressive. You stood up for yourself. You stood your ground. You told her off. That's something that I could never have done. It's something I've always _wished_ I could've done."

"What do you mean?" Grace wonders. "Like with Alison?"

"Yeah, with Alison," Spencer confirms. "If I had been able to stand up to Alison's catty, high school bullshit, then maybe I wouldn't have gone through everything I did. If I had told Alison what you told Olivia, maybe things would've been different. Eventually, I fought back. Eventually, I told her off. But by then, it was too late. My life was already a mess. And I am so, so proud of you for being able to see that what Olivia was doing was wrong and for being able to put a stop to it. Honestly, Grace, you're my hero."

"Stop," Grace flushes crimson. "I didn't do anything _that_ special."

"You did. You're such an amazing person," Spencer says and pulls her reluctant teenager into an embrace. "I don't what I did to deserve such a great kid."

"Do you want a sappy answer or the actual answer?"

"I'm afraid to answer that question."

Grace grins cheekily. "I'll keep it to myself."

"Probably for the best," Spencer grins back. "I love you. I'm so proud of you. You handled a horrible teenage bully better than I ever did."

"Well," Grace shrugs. "Maybe I learned from your experience."

Spencer nods slowly, but it's something that sticks with her for the rest of the day. Maybe she had. Maybe strength, like wisdom, was passed down from generation to generation, because she's pretty sure this kid is unstoppable.

* * *

"This is it, Henry," Spencer sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is your _last_ week."

"Mom, stop," Henry whines. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You're my _baby_ ," Spencer disagrees. "You're the _last_ one to leave elementary school and I don't think I was ready for it. I'm definitely not ready for my baby to go into middle school next year. My baby is going to be _eleven_."

"Not until August," Lilly helpfully points out, a bit teasingly. "He's still a baby until then."

Henry pulls a face. "Mom, stop calling me a baby."

"Can't do that," Spencer disagrees. "You're going to be my baby forever."

"You could still have another one," He shrugs, bringing his bowl to the sink. "You're not _that_ old."

"Wow, thanks for that vote of confidence," Spencer chuckles, and, as Toby then enters the kitchen, she asks, "Toby, can we have another baby?"

"Absolutely not," He disagrees without hesitation, kissing both Lilly and Henry good morning. "We are closed for business."

"Ew," Lilly scrunches her nose in disgust. "It sounds _so_ gross when you say it like that."

"But our last baby is leaving elementary school," Spencer pleads. "I feel like an old woman."

"An old woman does not need a baby," Toby points out and she chuckles. "Are you ready for your last week?"

"School is so boring, anyway," Henry frowns. "We don't even learn anything anymore."

"Middle school isn't like that," Lilly tells him. "It's serious business. You have to focus and be prepared for anything."

"I was a Boy Scout," Henry shrugs. "I'm always prepared."

"Okay, okay. Can we finish our breakfasts please?" Spencer ushers. "We are all going to be late if we talk any longer."

Lilly glances back, hopefully, at the staircase. "Dad, was Grace awake when you came downstairs?"

"No, still passed out," Toby shakes his head. "That summer job of hers is absolutely killing her."

"It'll calm down a little when they have some of the high school kids working, too," Spencer says. "But you've got to give her credit. She worked so hard all semester in all of her classes, and then she comes home and gives it her all at work instead of taking the summer to relax."

"Work ethic like a true Hastings," Toby teases. "We're going to need her to take it down a notch or two, at least for Ocean City."

"Ocean City!" Henry cheers. "That's the real point of summer. Summer means Ocean City and winter break means the Poconos. I love vacations. When I grow up, I want to just always be on vacation."

Toby smirks, ruffling his hair. "Keep dreaming, buddy."

"I wanted to say goodbye to Grace before I left," Lilly sighs and then shrugs. "Oh well. Maybe I'll see her tonight."

She hops off the stool, gives her father a hug and kiss and then heads up the stairs to finish readying herself for school. Spencer nods towards her son, saying, "Seriously, Hen, you have five minutes to finish that bagel before you're taking it to go."

"Don't rush me. I'll choke."

Spencer rolls her eyes, turning to her husband, who's pouring coffee into a thermos. "And what are _you_ still doing here? You're so late."

"Is there ever a day when we all leave on time?" Toby asks. "At least one of us is always running behind."

"That's true," Spencer sighs a bit. "I am not looking forward to the summer, because they seem to always take you away from me more often in the summer than any other time."

"Decent weather to get stuff done," He offers as an explanation. "I'll pull seniority when I can."

"You better," She grins and loops her arms around his neck for a kiss.

Henry balks. "Ew, okay, I'm done! You don't have to make out to get me to finish my breakfast."

He brings his plate to the sink and heads upstairs without saying goodbye. Spencer chuckles and calls after him, "That's not why we were doing it, but hey, whatever works!"

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity and desire for the summer to make its appearance. The kids head off to school, their parents to work, and Grace awakens from a post-first-year-of-college haze to an empty house, before getting ready for her own summer job at a restaurant closer in town. She has just enough time to see her family come home from their day's activities before leaving to close down the restaurant for the night, scarfing down a quick dinner before she goes. Lilly has an end-of-the-year book report that she gets right to work on as Toby prepares dinner and Henry is acting very strange; something that doesn't go unnoticed by his mother. As they all sit down to dinner, she keeps her eyes trained on him, but unlike their daughters who always need to be prodded to speak, Henry's an open book when it comes to his feelings and, instantly, his problem is out in the open.

"I don't think I want to go to soccer camp this year," He decides and this is as good a start as any.

"You don't?" Spencer asks. "But you love soccer camp. You've gone since you were tiny."

"I'm not good at it anymore," Henry shrugs.

"Yes you are," Lilly says. "You scored, like, three goals in one inning."

"It's called a _half_ when it's soccer, Lilly," Henry corrects her and she shrugs, unaware. "Innings are for baseball."

"I don't play sports!"

"Still," Henry continues. "I don't think I can go to soccer camp. Unless there's a different one."

"Well, it's your choice. If you don't want to, you don't have to," Toby decides and leaves it at that.

Spencer, however, senses there's more. "Why not, Hen? Are you getting tired of soccer?"

"No, but…" Henry sighs. "Owen and Jackson are probably going to be there and I don't want to hang out with them."

"Owen and Jackson? Your _friends_ Owen and Jackson?" Spencer asks. "What happened? Are you guys not friends anymore?"

"We're still friends but…" He trails off, pushing corn around on his plate. "I don't know. They're being jerks."

"To you?" Toby asks. "What did they do?"

"No, not to me," Henry shakes his head. "They're still nice to me. They're mean to the new kid, Jamie. They make fun of his name because there's two girls in our class named Jamie so they think it's a girl's name. And then they tell other people not to play with him at recess because he's weird, but he's not weird. He just likes different things than we do."

"That's not very nice of them," Spencer frowns.

"I know," Henry sighs. "I didn't say anything today when they did it because I didn't know what to tell them, but they've been doing this for a while. Ever since he moved here. It's so mean. They make fun of his clothes and tell him he won't have any friends and that dragons are stupid and made up. He really likes dragons. Wizards, too."

"And what do you think?"

"I think that they're being jerks," Henry says. "I already told you that."

"No," Spencer smirks. "I mean, what do you think of Jamie?"

"Oh," Henry frowns. "I don't know. He's quiet. He doesn't like to talk in class and he wears glasses that always fog up when we go outside and when Mrs. Sampson calls on him, he turns really red. I kind of think dragons and wizards and things are stupid too, like they do. But if he likes something different than me, then it's okay. I don't know why Owen and Jackson think that everyone has to be the same. That would be really boring."

Spencer smiles, satisfied with his answer. "You're a good kid, Hen."

"That's nice of you to say," Toby agrees. "I'm glad you can see that being different isn't a reason to be made fun of and doesn't make someone weird."

"I don't know what to say to them tomorrow," Henry frowns. "Owen and Jackson and Jamie, too."

"Well," Spencer says. "You didn't say anything today. How did that make you feel?"

"Not good," Henry shakes his head. "Like I was just letting it happen."

"Maybe you can suggest that they stop being such jerks?" Lilly suggests. "Ask them why they're being mean or whether they feel better tearing someone down. That'll let them know that you don't agree with them and think what they're doing is wrong."

Henry pouts a little, asking, "They're my best friends. Does this mean I have to make new ones?"

"Not necessarily," Spencer disagrees. "If you can make them realize that what they're doing is hurtful, then they can apologize to Jamie and you can all move on."

"But what if I can't?" Henry asks. "What if they start being mean to me?"

"Then, yes, I think you'll need to let them go," Toby says and Henry sighs in defeat. "Henry, I don't think that'll be a problem for you. You have _hundreds_ of friends."

"Yeah, but they're my _best_ friends."

"You can have lots of best friends," Lilly says. "Right, Dad?"

"Sure," Toby agrees. "Of course you can."

"But you only have one," Henry points out. "Caleb, right?"

"I have a few," Toby disagrees. "Caleb, of course, but also Emily and Graham and Rich, from work, and your mother-"

"Fifth. Wow." Spencer smirks, amused. "I'm fifth."

"They're in no particular order, obviously," Toby chuckles and Spencer decides to have some fun of her own.

"No, that's fine. I have my own list." She says. "The girls, of course, and Amanda, my college roommate whom I still talk to when I can, and Paige, and Melissa sometimes, and Alison when it's convenient for her, and that barista at Starbucks who always remembers my order, and my receptionist Danielle who usually gets my appointments right, and then-"

"Do I even make your list?" Toby asks, bemused.

"Eventually."

"You guys are married," Henry says. "You don't even have to be best friends."

"No, I guess we technically don't," Spencer grins. "But believe me, Hen, it helps."

"So what do you think I should do?" Henry asks. "I need help."

"No you don't," Toby smiles at him. "You just need to talk to your friends."

"And if they're mean to you or don't apologize to Jamie for being mean," Lilly adds. "Then they're not really your friends."

"Lillian Rose, you are getting wise in your old age," Spencer says, her thirteen-year-old blushing. "I am very impressed."

They're all anxious to hear how Henry's confrontation with his peers goes throughout the entire next day. Spencer finds herself checking the clock more than usual and zoning out here and there during her patients' sessions. She's seen her fair share of bullying for a lifetime, but she's never had to deal with a bully that wasn't directly targeting her or one of her children, so she's a bit apprehensive to hear how Henry will handle such a thing. Her son has always had the great desire to please everyone, to leave people with a smile on their faces or laughing if he can get them to, usually an easy feat. He's eager to please, mischievous by nature, but such an amazingly generous soul and she's sure he can find a way in his heart to handle his friends' unlikeable behavior. She gets off work early that afternoon, stops by Starbucks to visit her favorite barista because it's already been a day, and by the time she gets home, the bus is just pulling up to the corner of their street. She waves her son over and he climbs into the car, tossing his backpack into the backseat as they turn towards home.

"I got you a Frappucino," Spencer says and his eyes light up at the blended beverage in the cup holder beside hers.

"Thank you," He says and begins to sip at the cool drink. Mouth full of vanilla bean, he says, "Dad would say you're addicted."

"But you're not Dad, so you don't need to say that," Spencer teases. "I don't go everyday anymore. Just once a week."

"More like twice."

"Henry Tobias Cavanaugh, I will take that drink back."

"Too late!" He says as they pull into the garage, stepping out of the car, his drink half gone already. "I'm just kidding, Mom."

"I know, I know," She smirks, holding the door to the house open for him. "So how did today go?"

"You know what?" Henry asks and when his mother shakes her head, he says, "Dragons are actually kind of cool."

Spencer chuckles a bit, asking, "They are?"

"Hey!" Toby's voice calls from the living room and both Spencer and Henry are surprised to see him so soon. To their confused looks, he explains, "Job got done early. And so did yours apparently- enough to get Starbucks? Why am I not surprised? We're going to need to get you a patch."

Henry giggles and glances over at his mother, saying, "Told you."

"I do not have a problem," Spencer disagrees. "I would completely, fully, one hundred percent admit it if I did."

"Would you, though?"

"Anyway," Spencer says, ignoring her husband. "What were you saying about dragons, Hen?"

"Oh yeah," Toby adds, nodding. "How did today go?"

"Well we were at recess," Henry begins. "And Owen and Jackson starting making fun of Jamie because he brought a notebook outside and he was drawing something. And I told them they were being really mean and that they shouldn't make fun of someone just because they like something different from us. But then they started making fun of me because I wanted to be friends with a freak like Jamie and that made me mad 'cause I don't like when people call other people names."

"Neither do I," Toby says steadily and Spencer reaches out blindly, grappling with his hand.

"So then I told them if they were going to keep acting like jerks then I'd go find some new friends," Henry continues. "And they told me to go ahead and do it so I did. I went over and I talked to Jamie and asked what he was drawing and he's actually really good at it. He was drawing this huge red dragon that was breathing fire. He told me all about this show he watches with dragons and wizards and stuff in it. And then I asked him if he wanted to play on the playground with me and he did. And then a couple of other people came over to play with us and soon, we had the whole class playing this huge game of freeze tag and the only two people who weren't playing with us were Jackson and Owen. Because no one wants to play with you if you're a jerk."

Spencer smiles. "Isn't that the truth?"

"It was really, really fun," Henry says. "I think Jamie and I are friends now. It's not fair if people make fun of you so much that you don't have any friends. I felt really bad for him."

"I'm so glad you did that," Toby grins. "Henry, I'm so proud of you."

"He talked a little bit more after we walked back to the classroom," Henry says. "And this other boy Logan and this girl Katie and I were all talking about going on vacations with our families. Katie's family is going to New York City and Jamie's going to California because that's where they're from."

"Henry, you are the sweetest boy," Spencer tells him. "I honestly can't even tell you how happy I am or how proud of you I am."

"Why?" Henry asks. "I just wanted to be his friend. He didn't have any and now he has some."

"That's why we're proud, bud," Toby tells him. "You made that happen. You helped a little boy who was lonely. You made him happier."

"Everybody should have friends," Henry says. "And nobody should be mean to them if they don't."

Awed by the mere simplicity of it all- their wonderful son, a friend to everyone- Toby and Spencer merely hug their son close and shower him in kisses, love and praise.

Once again, their child has proven to have an inner resilience and effortless nature of problem-solving, something Toby and Spencer had struggled with all their lives and yet, somehow, to their three children, it seems to just come naturally.


	23. i've never been through hell like that

**Hello friends! Is anyone seeing this or is FanFiction still broken? I don't even know what's happening. Reviews appeared and then disappeared and then I stopped getting emails for them and like...? Whatever, I guess. I'm here. I have three chapters of this story left, including this one, and I need to get them out of the way and off my chest so I can focus on planning for NaNoWriMo which starts in three weeks. Woo! Still haven't decided whether or not I'm going to continue writing for PLL once this story is over, so jury's still out on that one. This could be swan song. You never know.  
**

 **Okay, so this chapter deals with some heavy stuff; namely, Toby's past with Jenna. So I'm going to insert a nice trigger warning here. No, I don't go into graphic details because I'd probably vomit everywhere, but I still talk about it. So I'm sorry. But it had to get written; my muse will never cease. This chapter title comes from "Carry On" by Fun. because every good chapter title comes from a song by Fun. K love y'all. Stay safe and see you soon!**

* * *

i've never been through hell like that

"You're hogging the whole blanket."

"No I'm not! But I'm freezing. You can't have the whole thing."

"Grace, I don't want to watch that weird foreign movie."

"It's not a weird foreign movie! It's French and there are subtitles. Get over it."

"I don't want to read my movie! I want to watch it!"

"You are so uncultured!"

"Hey! Don't be mean. Just because you went to college and we haven't yet."

"That's not what I'm saying, Lil, I'm just saying-"

"You're calling us stupid because we don't like the same things as you?"

"Oh my God, no. But you asked which movie I wanted to watch and that's the one I picked! You said it was my choice! You both did."

"I still don't see what's wrong with _my_ choice. It's a classic."

"Yeah, classically _terrible_!"

Despite the argument currently taking place in their living room, Spencer grins over the bowl of popcorn she's preparing, turning to her husband to ask, "Is it bad that I actually missed this?"

Toby smirks and divides hot chocolate into five mugs, adding tiny marshmallows to the top. "Yeah, to be honest, so did I."

In the few days since Grace has been home, their house has been a whirlwind of activity. First, Grace had been away nonstop in order to spend time with her friends and boyfriend and the rest of the family had tried to be as understanding as they could in order to give her time with everyone. But then she and Liam had broken up and since then, Grace has been hanging around the house, bored out of her mind, and trying to do everything she could to keep her mind off of her heartbreak. It's the night before Thanksgiving and they'd decided to have a family movie night after Toby had built a fire, but it seems their three indecisive children hadn't been able to choose a movie they could all agree upon. But it's been weeks, months even, since all three of them had been under the same roof, able to argue with one another as siblings do and for some reason, it's a welcomed occurrence.

"Hey, you know what?" Toby suggests as he and Spencer enter the living room. "Why don't Mom and I pick the movie?"

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "Should we watch _The Medici_?"

"Ew," Henry groans. "That boring documentary on the Renaissance?"

"Mom, no one likes that boring stuff but you," Grace says and Spencer chuckles.

"It's really educational!"

"But we're on Thanksgiving break," Henry points out. "I don't want to learn anything new."

"Lilly?" Spencer then asks, setting the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. "What do you want to watch?"

Their twelve-year-old shrugs. "I don't know. Whatever you guys want."

"No Lil, look, they can't agree," Toby says, the tray of steaming mugs of cocoa following the popcorn on the table. "It's up to you now. Anything you want."

Lilly glances between her two parents and then her siblings before murmuring something no one can make out. Except Henry. He immediately groans and says, "No! Not that gross girly movie!"

"What is it? What did you choose?"

"Can we please watch _Titanic_?" Lilly asks quietly, ignoring her brother's protests. "It's such a good movie and Leonardo DiCaprio…"

"Is _so_ hot," Grace agrees. "Sign me up. I'll get the DVD."

She leaps off the couch as Henry grumbles beside her, "Stupid girls and their stupid obsession with Leonardo DiCaprio. He's old and gross now."

"But he wasn't back then," Grace says. "Lilly, you have good taste in men."

"He _is_ cute, Lilly," Spencer agrees as she and Toby settle themselves on the other end of the couch, Grace starting the movie. "He was always everyone's biggest crush when I was in school."

"This movie is so long," Henry whines again. "And it's older than all five of us."

"It's not older than us," Toby chuckles. "Just you guys."

The opening chords of "My Heart Will Go On" begin to play as a velvet sapphire sea and the movie's logo come onto the screen. Both Grace and Lilly begin to squeal with excitement and Toby reaches over the back of the couch, draping that old quilt of hers across his and Spencer's laps, his arm coming around her shoulders. Henry grumbles for a moment longer before falling quiet, becoming enthralled in the storyline. In a moment, all three of them are glued to the screen, despite the fact that it isn't the first time viewing this movie for any of them, and Toby glances over at his wife, tucked so comfortably against him, and chuckles a bit when he realizes she's just as captivated as they are. He loves every single one of these people so much. He wishes every moment could be as simple and wonderful as this one.

Henry falls asleep right after Jack saves Rose from jumping to her death off the back of the ship, his head drooping onto Grace's shoulder, but neither of his sisters seem to notice. Just as the Titanic sees daylight for the final time, Toby's cell phone buzzes on the table before them and Grace groans, shooting him a glare. "Dad, please silence your cell phone."

"I'm sorry," He smirks and reaches for it, but Spencer's closer and he can't quite grasp it without disturbing their comfortable embrace.

She snatches it off the table and hands it to him, saying, "It's an unknown caller."

He wishes he could ignore the anxiety that's already crept into her voice at that notion. Rubbing her arm, he declines the call and switches the device to silent. "It's fine. It's probably nothing; just a wrong number or a telemarketer or something."

She nods, but she's a bit tenser than before and he's sure that no amount of time away from Rosewood or –A's grasp will ever be enough to fully remove her from the mental anguish. Toby's phone remains quiet for a while, but a few moments later, the screen illuminates again. Again, he declines and again, about ten or so minutes later, that same number tries a third time. Frowning, Toby asks, "You think I should answer it?"

"Well they're not giving up, are they?" Spencer asks and leans forward so that he can disentangle himself from her. "Go ahead. It's probably nothing, right? Like you said?"

"Yeah," Toby nods and stands, stretching a bit, to take the call in another room. "It's fine. I'll be right back."

There's anxiety in her eyes but she nods too, watching him go, and he shoots her a reassuring smile as he steps into the kitchen. Exhaling smoothly, Toby accepts the call, pressing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Toby."

His motions still. Time stops and his breathing becomes shallow; he'd know that voice anywhere. "Jenna. How'd you get my number?"

"You've had the same one your whole life. Photographic memory."

Toby frowns, his heart beating impossibly fast, his skin already beginning to crawl. "What do you want?"

"Can I borrow three thousand dollars?"

"Are you kidding me?" Toby asks, incredulous. "You think I have that kind of money just lying around? You think I would just give that to you?"

"It's an emergency."

"It always is with you, isn't it?"

He hears her sigh on the other end and then there's a crash and some yelling in a language he doesn't recognize. Jenna yells back, her voice then sounding foreign, before she says, "I have to get out of here but I have no way of doing so. I'm going to miss Thanksgiving."

"What are you talking about?"

"He sold my plane tickets. Anton. He sold my plane tickets for _drug money_."

"So you're stuck in Europe now, right?" Toby shakes his head. "And you think I want to bail you out?"

"I was hoping you'd want to do me a favor."

"What, because I owe you?" Toby asks. "Because you've done so much for me in the past?"

"You're a good person, Toby. I know you wouldn't just leave me here like this."

"Oh," He scoffs. "So you're going to use that against me, huh? Try and guilt me into it by saying that?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You know what? You got yourself into this mess," Toby says. "Looks like you're going to have to figure a way out."

"Toby-"

"I'll be sure to let everyone know, tomorrow, that you send your regards."

"Why are you being like this? You know, ever since you've been with her, you haven't been yourself. I wish you could see that."

"Don't bring Spencer into this," Toby sighs. "We're all adults. This isn't high school, anymore."

"It's sad. She's completely brainwashed you."

"You're delusional," Toby replies. "Have fun cleaning up your latest mess."

"Toby-"

"Don't call me again."

He hangs up and remains there, in the dark, breathing deeply for a moment, trying to get his emotions in check. It's been years, it's been _lifetimes_ , and yet, she still has the power to flip his emotional wellbeing completely on its axis. He fights with himself for the next few moments; _you didn't do anything wrong, it's okay to close the door on someone if they're toxic, you owe her nothing_. But even still, he comes away feeling a small pit of guilt forming in the depths of his stomach. Suddenly he's picturing his stepsister, half-blind, trapped in a foreign country with no money and no way of getting any, and that pit forms into a bowling ball. He knows he's being ridiculous; in what universe should he be feeling badly over this? And he's sure, if Spencer knew, she'd be saying exactly that. It doesn't ease his conscience. He suddenly feels like a horrible person.

Jack and Rose are racing through the engine room onscreen when Toby returns to the living room and Spencer knows him almost too well; she immediately senses the shift in his temperament. Softly, as he settles back on the couch beside her, she asks, "Are you okay? Who was it?"

Toby eyes his children, making sure none of them are eavesdropping, before murmuring, "Jenna."

Immediately, her expression melts into one of concern and she asks, "What the hell does she want?"

"She's not going to make it to Thanksgiving," Toby replies quietly. "She's stuck overseas because her druggie boyfriend sold her plane tickets for heroin or coke or something. She wants me to wire her three thousand dollars."

Spencer's eyes nearly fall from their sockets. "Are you kidding? What the _hell-_ "

"Mom," Grace whispers over shrieks of pain and terror onscreen as the ship snaps in two. "You're really racking up that Swear Jar money."

Spencer purses her lips, attempting to control her smile. "We don't even _use_ the Swear Jar anymore. Watch your movie."

Grace grins and turns her attention back to the screen. Spencer then asks her husband, "What did you tell her? No, right?"

"No. Obviously," Toby affirms. "But is it wrong of me to feel… bad about it?"

"No," Spencer says after a beat. "That's your big, beautiful heart for you. Usually a blessing, sometimes a curse."

He can't stop thinking about it. The rest of the movie goes by in a blur and when the credits roll, Spencer reluctantly disentangles herself from their position to gently prod Henry awake. Disoriented, he squints in her direction and she smiles, saying, "Come on, sleepyhead. Let's go to bed."

"Did the boat sink yet?" He asks, stretching. "I like the part where that really mean guy gets the blood all over his face."

"The movie's over, Henry," Lilly says, smirking. "You slept through the whole thing."

Henry yawns, standing though his eyes begin to close again. "It's so long and boring."

Spencer chuckles and opens an arm to him as he slumps against her, the two heading towards the stairs. "Let's go, Hen."

"I'm pretty sure they both could've fit on that door," Grace says a moment later, pulling the DVD out of the player and snapping it back into the case. "I mean, I get that James Cameron was making a dramatic, romantic move in doing it this way, but the laws of physics and buoyancy prove the opposite."

"I don't think dying is romantic," Lilly shakes her head. "Why would you want that? Wouldn't you rather live happily ever after with the person you love instead of _dying_ for them?"

"Not everyone _gets_ a happily ever after, Lil," Grace says, poignant. "I think that's kind of the point."

The two girls head towards the stairs, but Lilly turns back to ask, "Dad? Aren't you coming?"

It's only then that he realizes he's been stuck, frozen, to the spot. His girls are glancing back expectantly at him and he nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm on my way. Give me a second."

He mindlessly wanders throughout the house, double checking the locks and switching on the security system, turning off the lights and extinguishing the fire. As he heads up the stairs towards their bedroom, Toby can't help the uneasy feeling from creeping into the forefront of his mind. It's not his fault; he's not Jenna's keeper. He owes her nothing and deep down, somewhere, he knows that's true. This doesn't settle his demons. He goes to each of his children's bedrooms first, tucking them in and kissing them goodnight (Henry's passed out cold once more, Lilly sleepily tells him she loves him and Grace says she's too old to be tucked in, but grins all the same) before heading to his own bedroom, where Spencer is sitting in bed, yawning, and scribbling something furiously onto her bedside table notepad. It still makes him chuckle; it eases her anxiety to make lists, and thus, Toby finds multiple notepads with checklists all around the house. When she spots him, she pats the bed beside her and goes back to writing.

"Do you think I should make two pies for tomorrow or will one suffice?" She asks as he nods towards the bathroom instead of accepting her invitation. "I have enough ingredients for two, but I don't know how many people your father's expecting."

"Make two, just in case," He replies, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "He specially requested the pie and that must mean he liked it."

"Or that Heather is making that disgusting mincemeat one," Spencer says. "Can't we just stick to classic pumpkin and apple? Why must we dare to be different?"

Toby spits into the sink, rinses his mouth. "My family's anything but ordinary."

When he does finally join her in bed, her mouth forms a line and she asks, "Am I missing anything? I feel like I'm missing something."

Glancing at her list of tomorrow's activities- in order, of course, from the moment they awaken- he nods and says, "You forgot 'pay Jenna's way home from Europe so she doesn't miss Thanksgiving dinner and her stepfather doesn't make his son feel like a horrible person for ignoring her'."

Spencer frowns. "That's much too long."

He shrugs. "Paraphrase."

"Toby," She shakes her head. "You're not a horrible person. You owe her nothing. She has some nerve even considering asking you for help, let alone doing it."

Toby sighs. "She asked because she knew I'd do it."

"But you're _not_ going to do it," Spencer points out. "We have a kid in college; we don't just have three thousand dollars lying around."

"I know."

"She's not going to manipulate you again," Spencer insists. "You said yourself you'd never let that happen."

"And I won't," Toby agrees. "I'm not doing it. I don't want to do it."

Spencer nods. "Good. You shouldn't."

He heaves another sigh. "But why do I feel so bad about it? I don't want to. I don't want to feel like this. She doesn't have this power over me anymore; she hasn't in years. So why now? Did I do this? Did I _let_ her do this to me?"

For a moment, Spencer is silent. Then, she says, "This isn't your fault, Toby. It's never been your fault."

"Sometimes," He admits. "I regret reconciling with my father."

She places her notepad on the bedside table and switches off the light. In the darkness, her eyes are glowing wide. "You do?"

"Yeah," He agrees. "I wanted a relationship with my father, but… I don't honestly think it's worth all the drama with Heather and Jenna. I just want… I want a clean break from both of them. But after everything my father and I went through over the years, I don't think that's possible."

"Actually," Spencer disagrees. "I think it is."

His eyebrows furrow. "How?"

Her beautiful brown eyes are sincere and clear as day, boring into his. "You know how."

Four years ago, Daniel Cavanaugh had come to their home to have a talk with his son, something not so out of the ordinary anymore now that they'd begun getting along much better than in the past, and instead of them having a calm, civil conversation, it had been much more one-sided. Daniel had claimed that the world was out to get the Cavanaughs, first with Jenna losing the one and only child she'd ever conceived and then with Henry being hospitalized with terrible dehydration after a debilitating stomach virus. Toby, exhausted from the journey, from being up all night in the hospital with his son, from being sick with worry, hadn't said a single word. He'd chickened out. He'd planned on finally, _finally_ , telling his father every last detail about the horrors Jenna had inflicted upon him in his adolescence. But he hadn't. And the years had continued on and he'd tried to forget.

But he hadn't. He's sure he never could.

"Do you think that'll help?" Toby asks. "Do you really think he'll turn his back on his family for me?"

" _You're_ his family," Spencer says. "And your father is one of the most infuriating men I've ever met in my life, but he's not a monster. If he learned that his stepdaughter…"

"Raped me," Toby fills in quietly when she can't quite bring herself to say the words.

"Yeah," She replies just as softly. "Do you think he'd just allow her to continue on as normal? Do you think he'd be singing her praises? Do you think he'd choose her over you?"

"Spencer," Toby shakes his head. "He always has."

Her lips form a line and he knows she understands. "Toby… It's been over twenty years. It's nearing thirty, at this point. He's been kept in the dark since it happened. So much has happened since then; you've healed and distanced yourself from her and reconciled with him. You have people who love and support and adore you, and who believe in you one hundred percent; who _believe_ you one hundred percent, which I know was your main reason for not telling him back when it happened. But you aren't alone here, Toby. You'll always have your friends and your kids, who completely idolize you, and me. You know you'll always have me; you're stuck with me for life. You're the strongest person I know. You got through this once and I know you can do it again. You have nothing to lose, here. Really, you don't."

"Yeah," Toby replies. "Except, maybe, my father."

"Toby, if he does, if he decides he'd rather have them, if he takes her side, which I don't see how he could but if he does," Spencer shrugs. "Then it's his loss. It is. Because you're an amazing person who does not need to be feeling these shitty things or be associated with shitty people. I'm serious."

"I know you are," He smiles a bit. "And that's why I love you."

"I love you, too," She replies automatically. "You really don't need him, Toby. Not if he's going to choose them. I like to think he won't, but if he does… He needs to know. And you need to get this off your chest. It's been years."

"Yeah. You're right."

"You're strong. You can do this."

"I guess I'll try."

"Do you feel better about this?"

"Honestly? No," Toby replies and she frowns. "It's not your fault, though. I just need tomorrow to be over with and then we can all move on."

"We'll cut off all contact with him," Spencer proposes. "Just, you know, worst case scenario. We'll cut off all contact and never have to go back to Rosewood again. That part's not so bad."

"Your parents still live in Rosewood."

"Shit. Yeah, that's true." She says. "Well, they're only a few years away from being snowbirds, so it's not too much longer."

Toby chuckles. "I can't believe they're still working."

"I'm not sure they'll _ever_ retire, at this point."

"Weren't they going to get divorced a while back, too?" Toby then asks. "They're still together."

"I think at this point," Spencer smirks. "They're just waiting for death."

"Wow. What a charming outlook," Toby shakes his head. "Please tell me we'll never be like that."

"Us? You and I? Spencer and Toby?" She exclaims, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding? We're _nothing_ like them."

"Our friends have called us 'that old married couple' since we started dating."

"Yeah, but that was _endearing_."

Toby grins and pulls her closer. "Well, I can't argue with that."

"Good. You shouldn't," Spencer agrees, beaming. "We're pretty much the best."

* * *

Toby awakens the next morning to the smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen downstairs. He sits and rubs his bleary eyes, disoriented, and nearly balks when he realizes it's almost ten a.m. He can't remember a time he's slept this late and he's sure he's throwing off Spencer's impeccably organized checklists by indulging in holiday laziness. Jumping up, he haphazardly makes the bed, takes the quickest shower of his life and runs a hand through his hair, a toothbrush through his mouth. In the living room when he finally descends the staircase, Henry is sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch and Grace is on the other, her hands expertly French-braiding Lilly's hair, who's sitting on the floor at her feet. All three of them are watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, a family tradition, and momentarily, Toby feels disappointed in himself for missing the first third of it.

"Morning Dad!" Lilly notices him first, brightening. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Happy Thanksgiving," the other two echo moments after their sister, not glancing up from the television.

"Morning. Happy Thanksgiving, guys," He greets them, grinning. "You've all eaten and you're already dressed?"

"Yeah," Henry nods, downplaying the fact that this is actually a huge deal.

"How much of the parade have I missed?"

"Not too much," Grace shrugs. "But you _did_ miss one of the Broadway numbers and the Rockettes."

"Oh, well you'll have to catch me up, in a second," Toby says. "Where's Mom?"

"Running around like crazy," Henry says absentmindedly and then immediately panics, his brown eyes fearful, seeming to have realized what he said. "I didn't- that's not- I'm sorry! I didn't mean that, Dad. I really didn't."

Toby smiles just a bit. Not one of their children knows the full extent of Spencer's mental illness, but she has always been open with them about her struggles and her hospitalization. In fact, the word 'crazy' doesn't even bother her like it once had, but still, Toby refuses to use it. He knows this is something his children have adapted as well, always cautious and wary in their use of the term, and he knows for a fact this had just been a slip by his son- one he's, now, deeply regretting. His father is quick to assure him, "I know, bud. I know you didn't mean it."

Still, he looks somewhat miserable and disappointed in himself when he mumbles, "She's in the kitchen."

Toby nods and heads in that direction, instantly finding Spencer, humming to herself, pulling one pie out of the oven and placing another one in. The potholder slips as she's placing the pie on the stove and she burns her thumb, cursing under her breath. He chuckles and she turns around, catching him in the doorway. "Well, it's about time you rolled out of bed."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because you tossed and turned all night," Spencer says and this is not news to him. Stress over today's conversation hadn't granted him a full night's sleep. "I don't know when you ever actually fell asleep, but you did, so I wasn't about to wake you."

Toby sighs and says, "Guess I'm more nervous than I thought."

She nods her agreement and sticks her burnt finger in her mouth, asking, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Sure," He shrugs and then nods towards her injured finger. "You should put some ice on that."

"I'm fine," She shakes her head. "So this pie's done. The other one will be done in thirty minutes or so. We can head to your father's as soon as the parade's over."

"Why the rush?" He groans. "I'm in no hurry and I'm sure he isn't, either, to see us."

Spencer frowns. "If you go into this with an attitude like that, it's surely going to suck."

He glances at her and matches her frown. But he knows she's right; she usually is, especially regarding these matters. After he eats a little something, he helps her clean the kitchen, wash the dishes and pack up the two pies for their journey down to Rosewood in just a short few hours. They finish their work in enough time to catch the final third of the parade, just the five of them perched on the couch together, and when Santa and his reindeer make their appearance, it truly means that Christmas is just a month away. Toby's not quite sure he's ready- in more ways than one. Afterward, they bundle up, pile into the car and drive the hour or so down to Rosewood, welcoming that familiar pit of resentment and dread into their stomachs the minute they pass that deep cobalt sign.

There's frost on the lawns of the homes they pass, leftover pumpkins and scarecrows from those not quite ready to let autumn go, and bunches of patrons getting their caffeine fix despite the holiday at The Brew. Across the street from the Cavanaughs is Emily's childhood home, and Toby, as he's parking the family car, can spot their best friend, her family and her extended family entering the house for a little holiday fun. He imagines their Thanksgiving dinners aren't quite as drama-filled as his are. When they step out of the car, they need not even knock on the front door; Heather's there, door wide open, with a smile much too bright for her pointy, stern face. She kisses each of the children overdramatically, to their own dismay, and offers Spencer an airy greeting and a hug, two things Toby knows his wife has never gotten a day in her life.

Heather accepts each of their coats and goes to tuck them behind the glass doors in the sitting room- the room that used to be Jenna's bedroom. In her absence, Spencer turns to her husband to ask, quietly, "Are you going to wait until after dinner?"

"I don't think so," Toby shakes his head. "I don't think I could eat knowing that's over my head. And I don't think I can wait another second."

Spencer nods. "I'll keep the kids busy. Or strike up a conversation with Heather, because apparently we're friends now. Or, your weird uncle, who always likes to use Thanksgiving to remind me of the rabid dog he'd had as a kid named Spencer."

Toby smirks. "We both know you'll be too paralyzed with worry to do any of that. I'll come back to you pacing the floor and wringing your hands, probably."

Spencer chuckles. "Okay, yeah, probably."

Heather returns with a platter of veggies and hummus, saying, "What's a party without some snacks, right?"

"Thank you," Toby replies. "Heather, um… Is my dad around?"

"Last I saw him, he was basting the turkey," She replies, and then asks the children, "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

Henry shakes his head and Grace asks, "Could I have some water?"

"Sure honey," She nods. "Lindsey?"

"Lilly," Lilly corrects and adds, "I'll have water, too."

"Right, sorry. You'll have to excuse the old girl. Not so good with names, I'm afraid," Heather says. "Spencer?"

"Oh, no I'm fine, thank you," Spencer declines politely and the woman nods.

"Alright, I'll be right back with those," Heather says and checks the time on the grandfather clock in the hallway. "I've got to speak with Jenna, too. She's calling long distance; unable to make it today, see. Not sure why."

Toby shrugs and as his stepmother steps out of the room, Spencer presses a chaste kiss to his lips, whispering, "Good luck. You can do this. I believe in you."

He smiles and squeezes her hand one last time. "Thanks."

Toby finds his father exactly where Heather said he was, in the kitchen with the oven door halfway open, basting the browning turkey. There are a few thick slices of bacon coating the skin of the turkey, to keep it moist, and Toby smiles at that sight, a bit of nostalgia coming over him. As soon as he's finished, Daniel pushes the pan back into the oven and closes the door, turning to come face to face with his son. "Oh, Toby! I didn't realize you were here."

Toby nods and then asks, "You still do that, huh? Put the bacon on the turkey?"

"Your mother always said it was the best way to keep it juicy and to lock the flavors in," Daniel chuckles. "And by God, if she wasn't right."

"Are you busy?" He then asks, wanting to steer the conversation as far away from his mother as he could. "Do you need any help?"

"Yeah, actually, yeah," He nods. "You wouldn't mind peeling the potatoes, would you? I have to get started on the stuffing."

Toby agrees wordlessly, reaching for the vegetable peeler in the drawer it's always been and then grabbing the bag of potatoes, heading for the sink. "So… How have things been?"

"Good, good. Work's been busy, but I'm sure yours has, too." Daniel replies. "And you? How're Spencer and the kids?"

"They're good," Toby says calmly but inside he's screaming. _Just spit it out, already! Get it over with so you can move on._ "Grace is back from school this week."

"Ah right. How is she liking it so far?"

"She loves it."

"I can't believe you're old enough to have a daughter in college," Daniel shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm old enough to have a _granddaughter_ in college. Times goes by much too fast."

"Tell me about it," Toby says. "Actually, Dad, I-"

"Daniel!" Heather shrieks instead, stomping into the kitchen, her face full of white-hot rage. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Can it wait?" Daniel replies impatiently. "I've got dinner to prepare for twelve people and _you're_ too busy-"

"Does it sound like it can wait?" Heather cuts him off, shooting her stepson a glare. "Toby can cover it for a while. It's not like he's doing anything else."

For a moment, when his father follows his stepmother out of the kitchen dutifully, Toby wonders where her anger stems from. But only a moment; it doesn't take long for him to remember that she had, after welcoming them into their home, gone to speak with her daughter and Toby's sure Jenna had been all to quick to relay every detail of their phone conversation from the night prior. And suddenly, the air in the kitchen becomes stifling; it's much too hot, he's sure he'll suffocate. Suddenly, he's sixteen all over again, and his parents are out and he tries what he can to remain invisible, to not make a sound, to sit alone, in his room, unnoticed. But she noticed him; she _always_ noticed him, regardless of what he did to stop it. And he would tell her over and over again how wrong it was, how he uncomfortable and awful he felt, how much he didn't want her to touch him like that, and she'd always grin that wicked, Cheshire cat smile and do it anyway.

Heather doesn't join her husband when he reappears in the kitchen and, like years ago, Toby tries to remain invisible, continuing his work on the potatoes. Daniel, at first, says nothing. He sautés onions and celery for the stuffing and the men work in silence. But it's absolutely oppressive in this kitchen and Toby's sure if he doesn't say something soon, both men will burst. "Is… Is Heather okay?"

"No, Toby. Heather is not okay," Daniel says, almost patronizingly, and Toby braces for impact. "Heather just found out that her daughter won't be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner because _my son_ couldn't help her get here."

Toby frowns. "Dad, I-"

"Oh, I'm very interested to hear your explanation for this," Daniel says, proving the opposite by cutting him off. "I understand she was asking for a lot of money, but she's your sister and she needed your help. That's what families do, Toby! They help one another."

Toby says only one word in response. "Stepsister."

Daniel whirls around, his own blue eyes cool and unyielding. "What did you say?"

"Stepsister, Dad," He replies. "Jenna's my _step_ sister. Not my sister. I'm not related to her and neither are you."

"Will you knock it off with that already?" Daniel rolls his eyes. "Heather and I have been married longer than your mother and I were ever together. It's about time you realized and accepted that."

"Heather isn't the issue here," Toby says. "I'm so sick of you constantly throwing Jenna in my face. You want me to, what, Dad? Idolize her like you do? Realize she's better than I am and try to be like her?"

"No," He exhales heavily. "But a little love and respect for your family wouldn't hurt."

Toby stares at his father until their eyes meet once more. And suddenly, he's no longer afraid. "A little love and respect for me wouldn't hurt, either."

"Toby, I know you've been through a lot, okay? I realize that." Daniel begins. "What with your mother passing away and then being sent away for something you didn't do and then coming back and getting accused of yet another thing you didn't do. I realize your life hasn't been a picnic, okay? I get it. I understand."

"But Jenna's hasn't either," Toby fills in. "Right?"

"Exactly," Daniel says, a bit taken aback that he'd grasped the concept so quickly. Toby frowns. "Need I remind you that she and Heather escaped an extremely difficult situation back home with Jenna's father? Need I remind you that she suffered that terrible accident that left her with a permanent disability? Need I remind you of the countless other hardships she's endured and persevered through? Jenna's life hasn't been easy either, Toby, and I think a lot of the time you forget that. I think you're so concentrated on your own misery that you don't quite remember that others have suffered, too."

Toby swallows past the indignant remark to say, "And that's why you've always stuck up for her."

"Of course. I don't think enough people do."

"I don't think she really deserves it," He admits honestly. "I don't think she deserves the pain she's gone through, Dad, but I also don't think she deserves your praise, either. Especially after what she did to me."

"You've mentioned this before," Daniel remembers then, an uneasy and impatient look in his eyes. "You've said that before; what she's done to you. But you wouldn't tell me what it is. If she said something… If she insulted you… Well, you're both adults now, and I think you two can settle your demons."

Toby smirks mirthlessly. "I wish it was that simple."

 _How can it be wrong, she grins lasciviously, her hands lowering to his waistline, when it feels so right?_

 _It doesn't, he shakes his head, scrambling backwards and banging his head against the wall, it doesn't, it's wrong, you're… you're…_

 _I'm what? Raping you? Please, Toby, guys can't get raped. Guys always want sex. It's biology. It's in their DNA; your DNA._

 _I'll tell, he whimpers as a last resort, when my dad gets back tomorrow… I'll tell him what you're doing._

 _No you won't, she chuckles and her teeth glow like fangs in the moonlight, they won't believe you, they'll think you're lying, I'll tell them you're lying, I'll tell them you forced yourself on me and who will they believe?_

"Toby?" Daniel asks, but his son's too far gone. "Toby, what are you talking about? You wish what was simple? What did she do?"

 _Tell me I'm pretty, Toby, she demands and slips out of her nightgown, standing, bare, in front of him, tell me I'm pretty and you want to make love to me._

 _No, he refuses and goes to stand, goes to move, but she's in the way, he's paralyzed to the spot, no, this is wrong, I don't want to do this, I don't- leave me alone, don't touch me, this is wrong, stop it!_

 _We're not really related, she replies and crawls onto the bed, again reaching for his waistband, we can do anything we want and no one will be able to say anything, you won't get in trouble Toby, I won't tell anyone._

 _Don't touch me, I don't want this, stop it, he shouts like a mantra and for hours, his own voice won't stop haunting him, afterwards._

 _I know you want this just as much as I do, she replies and lowers herself onto him._

"Toby?" Daniel asks again, impatiently. "What is going on? You're acting really-"

"Dad," Toby begins, inhaling a deep, shaky breath, his voice low and quiet. "Jenna raped me."

Daniel grows very still and very pale, his hands halting in the middle of mixing the stuffing. It feels like hours before he speaks again. "What?"

"She forced me to have sex with her," Toby continues and averts his gaze, unable to look his own flesh and blood in the eye. "When they first moved in and… and every time you and Heather left the house, after. Over and over again and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do anything. I was powerless."

And suddenly, like a tapped oilrig, he can't stop the words from pouring out of his mouth. "When you took us all out to dinner to announce they were moving in, I thought she was looking at me sort of funny, but I thought maybe I was imagining it. I thought maybe, since I was still grieving Mom, I was just out of touch with normal social behavior since I pretty much shut myself in my room the second the funeral was over. But then they moved in and she'd accidentally walk in on me in the bathroom or she'd get too close passing me in the hallway or she'd touch me when reaching for something in a cabinet in the kitchen. And I was about to tell her, one night when you were gone, that I was uncomfortable by the way she was acting but she kissed me instead and when I pushed her off of me, she told me… She told me she knew that she felt something between us and that we didn't have to hide it anymore; that she didn't _want_ to hide it anymore."

"I told her it was wrong and that I didn't like her like that," Toby continues, absentmindedly mashing the potatoes and watching the starchy substance cream like butter. "I told her not to touch me again. I told her to leave me alone and I'd shut myself in my room just to get away from her. But she'd find me, every time. She wouldn't dare come near me while you were home, because she didn't want to be caught, but she also wasn't afraid of being caught, either. One night, when you came home earlier than expected and she was doing what she did to me, she told me that it was okay if you and Heather found out because then we wouldn't have to keep our love a secret anymore. And it made me sick, honestly, because I really was afraid that one day, you two would find out and you'd believe that there was something wrong with us when in reality, it was all her."

"One night, I just couldn't take it anymore," Toby sighs. "And I told her that I was going to tell you that she was forcing herself on me. I told her that I was going to sit you both down and tell you that she was abusing me. But she… She twisted my words around and said that they'd never believe me; that it would be _so easy_ to convince you both that it was the opposite- that I was forcing myself on _her_. And so I never said a thing. I suffered in silence for almost a year because I truly, truly believed that she was right. That if she said anything, or if I said anything, you and Heather would both believe that I was the manipulator, that I was the one being forceful, that there was something wrong with me and you'd send me away."

"Which, of course, became entirely ironic when summer hit," Toby goes on. "Because say what you will about Alison and her friends, but they saved me, that night. Alison thought it might be funny to play a harmless prank on us, but she didn't know we were in the garage and she saw what Jenna was doing to me. She assumed what I always thought you would assume, if you caught us; that I was the aggressor, and she held that against me and forced me to take the blame for the accident and that's why I was sent away. And as much as I hated every waking second I spent in juvie, I was also grateful for Alison, because she got me away from the horror I was living through while I was home. It never happened again, not even when I got back; although, I'm sure Jenna loved making me her slave while she was still getting the hang of losing her vision. Relying on me was the ultimate 'fuck you' to my freedom, but I let her know, first and foremost, that I would never, _ever_ let her touch me like that again."

He pauses a moment, mainly to make sure his father's still paying attention, and when he glances at the older man, Daniel's face is as white as a sheet and he's never looked so attentive. He utters one pained, strangled word. "Toby…"

"It's been years," Toby concludes. "But I've been afraid to tell you ever since. Even long after it happened, even long after I left your house and it didn't matter if you did or didn't believe me, I was still terrified of telling you. It's been a huge part of my life and something that I'm still, every now and then, dealing with. I went to therapy, weekly, for years and I still go every now and then, just to check in and get things off of my chest. I… For the first few months after Spencer went away to college, I went to a support group for survivors of sexual abuse, because being alone again brought back painful, almost unbearable memories that I didn't know what to do with. But I learned from Mom's mistakes; I wanted to get help. I didn't want to sit with my own misery until it drove me to death. I didn't want to let it control me like she did. You weren't ever very accepting or understanding of Mom's struggles, so I knew that if and when I decided to tell you, I had to have a handle on my emotions and on the situation itself. And so… It's been thirty years since it's happened and it doesn't quite come up as often as it used to. I'm healing. It's not something I'll ever be over and it's something that will be a part of my life forever, unfortunately. That's what she's done to me. That's the kind of person you're always encouraging. And I'm not trying to take anything away from you by saying this, but… I just thought you should know."

The timer on the oven hits zero and begins to ring throughout the kitchen. Daniel still looks as though he's been frozen to the spot. Toby, however, feels like the weight of the world's just been removed from his shoulders. He's lighter than ever when he asks, "Dad? Can you please just say something?"

Apparently, this is asking too much; Daniel remains silent, unmoving. Heather comes bustling into the kitchen, muttering irritably. When she notes the timer, she slams a finger against the over door and yanks it open, shouting, "Do you not hear the turkey's timer blaring in your ear, Daniel? For goodness sake! We have starving guests, you know!"

At Toby's mashing, she asks, "You trying to make baby food or something? A few lumps are okay."

He ceases immediately and scoops them into a serving bowl. "Right. Sorry."

"Daniel, Jesus Christ, a little help here!" She then yells, struggling to lift the turkey onto the carving board. "Don't just stand there like a useless lump! I swear to God, I have to do _everything_ myself around here!"

Daniel does as she's asked and she continues to race around the kitchen, placing various sides into bowls and bringing them into the dining room. Toby watches as his father reaches for the carving knife with shaking hands and suddenly, he doesn't see this ending well. He takes the gleaming metal knife from his father and suggests, "I'll do it, Dad."

Daniel nods wordlessly and retreats to his seat at the dining room table, leaving Toby alone with his thoughts and the bird. He wishes he had gotten some kind of reaction out of his father, but he supposes this is better than blatant denial and support of the enemy. Once the turkey is carved into slices and everyone is sitting down at their places, Toby takes his seat beside his wife, who is clearly on pins and needles. "Your father looks like he's going to be sick. What happened? Tell me everything; I'm _dying_ over here."

"I told him," Toby replies quietly and when her eyes search his for details, he adds, "Later."

"Thank you all for joining us on this wonderful holiday," Heather greets them graciously, beaming at her husband regardless of the fact that she was ready to kill him moments ago. "Daniel, will you say grace?"

All the members of the table link hands and wait for Daniel to speak. He clears his throat and says, "Lord, I would like to thank you…"

He trails off and when Toby glances up, he notes his father is still looking at him like he's seeing him for the first time. It's making more than a few members of the table uncomfortable, including Toby himself, and Heather urges, "For what, dear? Finish before the food gets cold."

Suddenly, he scrapes his chair across the floor and stands up abruptly, glancing at his wife and asking, "Heather, I need to speak to you. _Now_."

"Darling, we're about to eat. I think it can wait until-"

" _Now_."

Heather purses her lips but tells her guests, "Well, don't wait on our account! Eat, please, before it grows cold."

The two disappear into the next room and Spencer turns to ask her husband, "Did you do that?"

Toby nods and replies, "I think I might have."

He barely touches his meal; the anticipation of his parents' return is much too great for him to stomach much more than a couple of bites of turkey and a forkful of mashed potatoes. Daniel and Heather do not return for the rest of the meal, for the long moments after, or for dessert, which Toby's aunt takes it upon herself to serve. He watches his children giggling over identical plates of their mother's apple pie and, not for the first time, praises God that they will never be put into such a position. As they begin to clean and clear away and pack the leftovers, Toby and Spencer doing all of the work as the rest of the relatives decide it's not their house and not their problem, Toby's pretty sure he's seen the last of his parents for the evening. The sun begins to set and the kids begin to grow bored and Toby tells Spencer to round up the troops and head for the car. He heads towards the back room to thank his parents for the invite and can hear the argument emanating from the other side before he's even properly knocked.

"If you'll just calm down and _listen_ to me-"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? In what world does this warrant being calm about? Jesus Christ!"

"It was years ago and we can move past this-"

" _Your daughter raped my son!_ "

Toby doesn't bother knocking. Instead, he pushes open the door and Heather looks as wild as he's ever seen her and Daniel looks almost murderous. Both have paused with snarling teeth and angry red eyes and Toby clears his throat, saying, "We're, um… We're going to take off. I just wanted to say thank you for inviting us. Oh, and Spencer left the rest of the pie because… well, you didn't get any."

Heather crosses her arms over her chest and says, "Thank you. Have a safe drive home."

His father is still looking at him with that slightly sickened look in his eyes and he begins to lose pallor once more. Toby wonders if this is how it'll be the rest of his life. "Thank you. We'll be sure to do that."

And just as he's stepped out of the house, just as he's shut the door behind him and stepped halfway down the sidewalk towards their car, he hears his father jog up behind him. "Toby! Wait!"

Turning, he meets his father's eyes and asks, simply, "Yeah?"

Daniel seems to have been in a hurry to stop him from leaving, but now that he has, he can't seem to figure out what to say. "I just… I don't… I'm…"

"I know," Toby says. "It's a lot to take in. I don't expect you to just understand and accept that it's happened all in one day. Sometimes, I still struggle with that and it's been almost thirty years."

Daniel shakes his head and says, "I really wish you would have told me sooner."

Toby nods but asks, "But you understand why I didn't, right?"

"I do. I do and for that… I'm sorry," Daniel says. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not being… Not being there for you."

Toby pauses a moment before telling him, "I forgive you."

"You do?"

"Yeah," He confirms. "I forgive Jenna, too, even though she probably doesn't deserve it."

Daniel smiles and says, "You're just like her, you know. Your mother. She'd be so proud of the man you've become."

It's probably the nicest thing his father has ever said to him and thus, it makes him feel so incredibly awkward. He shuffles his feet, saying, "Thank you. We're, uh, we're going to get going now."

He turns to go, towards their car, but Daniel stops him once more and when Toby's turned back around, his father collects him in an embrace. He can count on one hand the amount of times his father has hugged him; when he was three years old and got lost in the hardware store accompanying his father and he'd seen fear in the elder Cavanaugh's face for the very first time, when he was seven and Daniel had signed him up for baseball to try and force him to be sporty even though Toby had no interest and in one game he had accidentally hit the game-winning home run out of pure, dumb luck, and when he was fourteen and that call had come in the middle of the night that the third member of their family was gone and Toby had all but collapsed against his father, inconsolable, and Daniel had awkwardly maneuvered his arms around his son, his face reading stony silence. He had pretty much resigned himself to the idea that he was never going to get another one, either, so he's shocked into his own silence, now.

After a moment, Toby hugs back and says, "I was afraid that, after all this time, you'd still take Jenna's side. You still wouldn't believe me."

Daniel pulls back and makes sure he's looking his son in the eye as he speaks the four words that, unbeknownst to him, his son's been desperate to hear all his life. "Toby, I believe you."

He must still be in a daze the moment he climbs behind the wheel of the car, because Spencer's immediately shaking her head and unbuckling her seatbelt. "Nope. No way. Switch with me. You're not operating a motor vehicle right now. I'm driving. Switch."

He doesn't disagree. He also doesn't really know where to begin either, which proves to be a problem because Spencer is full of questions. "So? How did it go? What did he say? What did _Heather_ say? I bet she was losing her shit. Did they take her side? Tell me they didn't; they had to believe you. I saw him hug you and I almost lost it. That's a good sign, isn't it? Tell me that means something happened."

"What are you talking about?" Grace asks, curiously, from the backseat. "Wait, Dad, are _you_ the reason Daniel and Heather left the table earlier?"

Lilly scrunches her nose, saying, "I don't really think you can call them by their names."

Grace shrugs. "I'll call them whatever I want seeing as they never told us what to call them."

"What do other people call their two grandparents?" Henry wonders. "I bet we're the only ones who have this problem."

"Probably not," Lilly disagrees. "We could come up with names for them, like Grammy and Poppy, or Grandpa Daniel and Grandma Heather, or something."

" _Or_ ," Grace grins mischievously. "We could call them something ridiculous, like Pencil and Paper, or Strawberry and Grape or Light switch and Outlet."

"Why would we do that?"

She shrugs. "Keep things interesting."

Spencer rolls her eyes, a smile on her face, and addresses her husband again. "So? Can you please fill me in before I explode?"

"I'm still trying to grasp it all, to be honest," He tells her. "It went… It went surprisingly well. He knows the truth now."

"Good," Spencer nods. "And? He obviously took it well enough to _hug_ you."

"I think it might permanently damage his and Heather's relationship," Toby says. "He seems pretty upset about this whole thing."

"Good," She repeats. "He _should_ be upset about this. With Heather, with Jenna, with himself… But not with you."

"No, I don't think he is," Toby replies. "He told me he was sorry for not being there for me. He's never apologized to me a day in his life."

Spencer smiles. "What did I tell you? Believe in him and he'll believe in you."

"It feels really good to get all of it out in the open," Toby admits. "It's something he and I are definitely going to have to work through, but… It's a start."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "It's a start. I'm so proud of you for telling him."

"I don't think I could've done it if it weren't for you," Toby tells her and reaches for the hand she's resting on the gearshift, lacing their fingers. "I really don't. You've been my rock through all of this. You're…"

"I'm what?" Spencer asks teasingly. "An annoyingly stubborn pain in the ass who drives you crazy?"

"No," He chuckles and squeezes her hand. "You're my safe place to land."

She glances at him, then, and her eyes soften with empathy and love and nostalgia. The kids converse on and on in the backseat, oblivious to their parents' very sentimental moment, as these things happen all the time and the miles towards home grow fewer and fewer.

He doesn't let go of her hand. She doesn't seem to mind.


	24. vacation, all i ever wanted

**Hi guys! Here we are! The penultimate chapter! Honestly, y'all probably won't even miss me. You're probably already super duper sick of seeing this story, but that's fine. I would be too if I was reading a story that rambled on for 200k+ words. LOL. You know me- never able to shut up or know when to quit. But uh yeah. So like I said, this is the second to last chapter and I should have the last one up in a week or so. Still working on the editing process and still not quite satisfied with the ending. We'll see how it goes.  
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 **Thank you so, so much for your kind words and continued support. You honestly have no idea how much it means to me. I'm still not 100% decided either way whether or not I'm going to continue writing for the PLL universe when this is over and it's that you guys aren't convincing (because some of you really, really are) it's just that it's hard when the show's ending, too, and it feels like there's no subject matter. But I promise to keep you posted, okay? Cool. This chapter title comes from "Vacation" by The Go-Go's (you probably already knew that :P) and it's just a fun little thing before the last one. Yay!**

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vacation, all i ever wanted

"You're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out. I'm totally calm."

"You're freaking out."

"Definitely not freaking out."

"Spencer, you're _freaking_ out."

"Okay, I'm freaking out," She concedes and tries to will herself to steady her heartbeat, calm her breathing. "Why am I freaking out?"

"Because you always do this whenever we go away," Toby replies and honestly, she knows it's true. "It's part of your stress period, isn't it?"

"Hey," She warns, still bent over her open suitcase. "Leave me and my stress period alone."

"I'm not making fun of you. Whatever works," He shrugs. "Honestly, if anything, I should be the one freaking out here. This was _not_ my idea of a family vacation."

Spencer smirks. "But it's the Poconos. We love the Poconos."

"Sure, for a nice romantic getaway here and there," Toby agrees. "That's not what this is."

"Yeah, we haven't been there in _years_ ," Spencer comments. "I think the last time we were there, we conceived Henry."

"Okay, well, don't get any ideas," Toby warns her and she chuckles, head thrown back. "Not like we'd get the chance, anyway. There won't be any alone time for us; not with the whole motley crew hanging around."

Spencer finds herself rolling her eyes at this, but still, she can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. When Veronica had first presented the idea to her- a big family vacation in the Poconos to bring everyone together; _everyone_ \- Spencer hadn't exactly been on board right away, either. Her parents' relationship has been rocky at best, lately, and she does everything she can to avoid spending extended periods of time with her sister's family, if she can help it; what, with her brother-in-law's wandering eye, her sister's parental judgment over _every little thing_ she and Toby do as parents, and her niece's spoiled, tormenting, and at times nasty attitude towards her cousins, it really does bode well for everyone if the two families have as little contact as possible. To this day, Spencer's not really sure what convinced her to say yes, but alas, here they are, two days after Christmas and packed and ready to make the drive up to the mountains the very next day. All three of her children are extremely excited to spend the rest of their winter break skiing and tubing and ice-skating. Spencer wishes she and her husband felt the same way.

"It's not going to be so bad," Spencer assures him as she reaches for the notepad at her bedside. "We won't have to spend every waking second with them, I don't think. Just some activities here and there and meal times."

"Easy for you to say," Toby shakes his head. "I still have nothing to contribute to the conversation. It's been years and things are still the same."

"Oh stop it. My parents love you," Spencer disagrees. "Why is this even still an issue?"

"Because they're intense and they still make me uncomfortable," Toby tells her. "Sometimes your mother is patronizing without even trying to be-"

"I know, but she's working on that, and she really does think of you as the son she never had."

"- and I'm sorry, but I _still_ can't look at your father without seeing his face…" He trails off. "When he found us in my loft that one day-"

"Jesus Christ, Toby, that was like twenty years ago," Spencer chuckles. "You really need to let it go."

"It was the single most embarrassing moment of my life and I'm not good at letting things go."

"I'll say," She agrees and pores over her list once more. "At least you're not Wren. Pretty sure both my parents hate that guy and ironically, he's none-the-wiser and _loves_ them."

"I'll never understand how or why Melissa decided to forgive him."

"I plan on shaking that out of her this weekend," Spencer promises. "It's been way too long and I'm absolutely dying to know the truth."

Toby smirks and steps into the bathroom to pack up his toiletries. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"My mother's booked a relaxing morning at the spa for us girls on Monday," Spencer elaborates. "And rumor has it they serve cocktails with the mani-pedis. Melissa's a sucker for some alcohol before noon, and she's also a lightweight. It all works out in my favor."

"You're awful," He grins and then seems to realize what this means, poking his head back into the bedroom. "Wait, does this mean you're all going to be off getting pampered and swapping family secrets over massages and mimosas and I'm going to be stuck with…"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "You'll be fine."

"You hate me."

"And you call _me_ dramatic," Spencer laughs. "You'll be fine. It won't _just_ be my dad and Wren. You'll have Henry, too."

"Okay, you hate _us_."

"I love you both," Spencer refutes. "You two are the most important men in my life and you both know that. But girl time is important, too. And I think you and Henry will survive the two or three hours we're gone."

"If we don't, it'll be on your conscience," Toby teases and then catches sight of her, cross-legged on the floor, making check marks on her list. "Spence, your suitcase is completely empty."

"Not completely," She disagrees. "I packed my snow boots. And I went to pack my travel jewelry box, but then I couldn't find the Scrabble necklace and I had a mini panic attack."

Toby smirks, humor in his eyes. "You're _wearing_ the Scrabble necklace."

" _Obviously_ ," She shakes her head. "I never take it off. But tell that to the Spencer of twenty minutes ago who almost lost her freaking mind over it."

"You haven't been getting enough sleep."

"I don't think so, either," Spencer agrees and takes the hand he extends to her, pulling her up. "I'm excited for vacation if only for that. You, me, a giant cozy bed, and a fireplace and snowfall to wake up to every morning. You always sleep better on vacation than you do in your own bed, you know."

"That sounds amazing," He says. "But can we be real, for a second? We have three children and no _way_ are we going to be able to sleep in and indulge in all of those wonderful things you just mentioned without one of them coming in to disturb the peace."

She shakes her head. "Let me dream, okay?"

From there, she begins to pack all of the clothing she'd laid out on their bed, while he puts the finishing touches on his own suitcase, closing the top and zippering it shut. It doesn't take her long to fit everything she needs into her bag, and once she's double and triple checked that she's gotten everything, she joins her husband in bed, yawning and curling into him, ready for slumber. Toby, however, ever the night owl, is still wide-awake. Absentmindedly stroking the bare skin below her shoulder, he sighs and asks, "Do you think this is going to become an annual thing?"

Spencer only murmurs, "Toby…"

"No, I'm serious. Because if it is, I'd like to adequately prepare myself."

"Toby, we have a three-hour drive tomorrow and we need to get some rest."

"Spencer, we're spending a week in a ski resort with your entire family," Toby points out. "If this was the other way around, you'd be murdering me in my sleep by now for even entertaining the idea."

"Again, you call _me_ the dramatic one," Spencer replies, shrugging out of their embrace and rolling away from him. "Goodnight."

"Seriously! We're going away for a week and there's only so many times I can ask about your father's clients and he can ask about my business before conversation runs stale."

" _Goodnight_."

He exhales heavily and snuggles closer to her again, an arm around her torso as he presses a kiss to her neck. "I'm sorry, it's just… It doesn't matter that it's been years. Your family still kind of makes me uncomfortable."

"Yeah but you always worry and it's always fine," She points out, lacing their fingers together. "My family's my family, Toby, and I can't do anything about them."

"I always do this, don't I? Complain about spending any time with yours when mine barely knows we exist?" Toby implores ruefully. "I shouldn't do that. At least your family cares about you and wants to actually build relationships with us and have that quality family time."

"Yeah," Spencer replies quietly. "I could do without the drama, too, but… It's something. They're my family and I still love them despite everything."

She feels him nod against her shoulder and she reminds him, "But it doesn't always have to be this dichotomy between your family and mine, Toby. Because my parents, Melissa… They're your family too, you know. They've always been. And… Well, it's up to you whether that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Another kiss is pressed against her skin and she feels him smile into this one. "It's a good thing."

She smiles back, holds him closer, and agrees.

The next morning, their children wake with the sunrise and are much too excited to eat a proper breakfast, much preferring to titter around anxiously and badger their parents until the car is packed and they're on the road towards the mountains. The temperature drops significantly the further north they climb and by the time they hit the Poconos, a steady snowfall has begun. The resort they're staying in offers lake view cottages and, by some miracle or strange twist of fate, the two cottages they'd rented are side by side. It's all hugs and reunions from the moment they arrive, with Vivian already gloating that she gets her own bedroom in the cottage shared with her parents and grandparents, and it's something Grace immediately gets over the moment she and Lilly spot the room they'll be sharing for the week in their own cottage. Mostly, Spencer's sure Toby's glad that her parents will be staying with Wren and Melissa and not them and she knows _she's_ glad she was right about the giant, cozy bed and the fireplace built right into their room.

After unpacking a bit, they head up to the main lodge for a spot of lunch and they're already frozen solid just from the walk up. Surprisingly, for it being a holiday week, the resort isn't very crowded, and they begin to wonder if it'll get more so as the week wears on and it grows nearer to the New Year. Everyone's a bit exhausted and a bit cramped and cranky from the drive up, so they spend the day relaxing in the lodge, getting fitted for skis and the little ones signed up for ski school, and then laughing over dinner at the restaurant that had been recommended to them by one of Peter's clients. He sincerely apologizes, over dessert, for nearly killing Henry a few days prior at Christmas, and Spencer still looks murderous at the prospect so she's pleased when Toby takes the reigns and tells his father-in-law that a simple allergic reaction is nothing they can't handle. Before they depart for the night, Melissa expresses her enthusiasm for their girls' spa day and Spencer can already feel Toby frowning before she even looks at him.

They're in the lobby of the spa and the girls are comparing bottles of nail polish, indecisive. Vivian, at thirteen, tosses her hair over her shoulder and reaches for a bottle of deep purple. "I'm thinking of getting something kind of edgy. Does purple work for me?"

Grace shrugs and contemplates the two different shades of blue in her own hands. "I don't know. Get whatever color you want."

"Blue? Seriously?" Vivian scoffs. "You're literally _so_ boring. You get blue every time."

"Okay, first of all, we've never done this before so you don't know what I get every time," Grace says and tries to hide her chipped fingernails from her cousin. "And second, blue's my favorite color, so who cares if that's what I get?"

"Of course blue's your favorite color. Blue's _everyone's_ favorite color. Way to stand out, Grace," She smirks. "And aren't your nails blue right now?"

Grace frowns. "No."

"They so are," Vivian laughs. "Predictable."

Grace opens her mouth to respond but shuts it firmly once more. A week shy of her twelfth birthday, she's certainly finding it harder and harder to keep her true feelings to herself. Vivian then bends down to Lilly's eye level, asking, "And what color are you thinking of, Lilly? Don't pick the same one as your sister."

"I'm not," Lilly replies shyly. "I like this pink one."

"Pink?" Vivian exclaims. "Pink is for little girls."

"She's six," Grace rolls her eyes. "She _is_ a little girl."

"Mommy says anyone can like pink," Lilly says boldly. "It doesn't just have to be for girls."

"Whatever," Vivian sighs and places her purple bottle back. "Maybe I'll get black."

"You absolutely will not," Melissa butts into the conversation, shaking her head and snatching the black polish from her daughter's fingers. "You're not turning into those weirdos from that band you like with the blue hair and the heavy eyeliner. I'm sorry."

Vivian groans. "But _Mom_ -"

"Oh yes, I know, you have to disagree with everything I say because you're a teenager," Melissa sighs. "Life is so hard. Pick a different color."

Grumbling, Vivian does as she's asked, and Grace, grinning mischievously, turns to Spencer to ask, "Mom, can _I_ get black polish?"

Spencer smirks. "If that's what you really want."

Grace makes a face at her glowering cousin and decides, "Maybe just my toes."

Moments later, the three younger girls are getting their nails cut, filed and painted while their mothers and grandmother are sitting side by side across the way, their feet getting tended to first, sipping from identical mimosas, as promised. Melissa takes a particularly long sip of her drink before turning on her sister, asking, "Are you _really_ going to let Grace get black polish? _Black_?"

"Who cares?" Spencer shrugs. "My nails were black for all of high school. It's a temporary lacquer that will wash off. Not my nails, not my decision."

"Melissa, you're making a huge deal out of nothing," Veronica agrees. "Vivian's a teenager, now, and you're going to have to allow her to become her own person."

Spencer can't get an indignant response out fast enough and instead, she blurts out, "Yeah, Melissa. Cut the cord already."

"Shut up," Melissa replies and to her mother, she adds, "You, of all people, certainly can't tell anyone to allow their children to become their own person."

Veronica scoffs but Spencer adds, "Actually, I'm kind of with her on this one."

"Excuse us for setting boundaries," Veronica replies. "Excuse us for having expectations and goals for you and encouraging you to pursue them. Excuse us for wanting better for our children then settling for the next best thing."

Melissa purses her lips. "You're excused."

"So," Spencer exclaims in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Massages after this or facials?"

"Massages," Veronica says tersely. "I canceled the facial portion because we have young ones with us and I broke out so terribly from the last one. You think you can't get acne at my age and then you're proven wrong."

"Wren still breaks out every time he has to cover a delivery," Melissa smirks. "I don't know, he can stitch up wounds left and right, he can deal with illness and serious injury, he can perform numerous surgeries, but there's something about delivering babies that just freaks him out. I thought it was all the blood, but maybe it's just all the foreign, vulnerable women."

Spencer smirks. "Somehow, I don't think that's it."

Melissa nearly chokes on the remains of her drink. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," Spencer replies. "Wren has never had a problem looking at another woman, that's for sure. Regardless of her vulnerability level."

"Wow," Melissa shakes her head. "You're going to bring up that kiss between the two of you until the end our days, aren't you?"

"Please, I'm still trying to forget it," Spencer disagrees. "I wish it was that easy."

"Girls, are you _ever_ going to let this go?" Veronica sighs, already growing impatient with the two of them. "I mean, we're all adults now and you're both still acting like teenagers."

"Mom, I have _no_ interest in ever mentioning this again, believe me. I'd love to move on and let bygones be bygones." Spencer says. "But I think… I think we have to address the problem before we can do that."

"And I suppose _my husband_ is the problem," Melissa snorts and when Spencer sighs, nodding, she adds, "Unbelievable. We've been married for _thirteen years_ , we have a _child_ -"

"Melissa, this has literally nothing to do with you," Spencer rolls her eyes. "You _always_ think everything is about you. But actually, I think what we're all wondering is just… why. Why Wren? Why go back to him when he proved he was untrustworthy? Why forgive him for the times he's proved so over the past few years? I'm just honestly curious. I'm not criticizing you. I just want to know."

Melissa shakes her head. "May I answer that question with one of my own? Why now? Why didn't you ask me this thirteen years ago when we got back together?"

"Honestly," Spencer shrugs. "Because I was afraid you'd blame me again. I was afraid you'd say I was jealous or that I wanted what you had or whatever nonsense you always spew at me. But I always thought you deserved better than what you settled for and so the curiosity has eaten me alive ever since. Believe me, I have never in my life been jealous of you."

"I have," Melissa admits bitterly and thanks the woman who brings her another drink, taking a large gulp. "I've been jealous of you. I think, for my whole life, I always felt like your life was better than mine and I had to tell myself that mine was in order to not drive myself totally insane."

"Yeah, the psychological torture, mental illness and drug addiction are all things to envy," Spencer replies sarcastically. "In what world would you envy me?"

"You know what I mean," Melissa purses her lips. "We reconnected at a party, have I told you that? We reconnected at a party a mutual friend of ours was throwing-"

"Melissa," Veronica hisses. "Not here. Not now."

"No, Spencer wants to know, doesn't she? Secrets don't stay secret for very long, Mom. I'm tired of you being the only one in the know." Melissa disagrees. "She was throwing a Halloween party and I saw Wren there and I was still a mess from everything that had happened. You were still in undergrad, I think. Anyway, I tried to ignore him and then he came over and struck up some conversation and asked about you, _of course_ , and mentioned that he knew CeCe and couldn't believe all the nonsense she was responsible for. And I decided I was going to get blackout drunk so I couldn't be held responsible for the mistakes I was about to make. We argued a bit and made out a bit and had sex. A few times, actually."

Spencer scrunches her nose. "Get to the point."

"He was dating someone else," Melissa goes on. "But we continued to meet up anyway. And this girl, she found out, and she was murderous. I actually feared for my life when she came after me. But he told me I was the one he wanted to be with, the only one he'd _ever_ wanted to be with, and we eloped in Atlantic City second weekend of November."

" _What?_ " Spencer exclaims. "But… You had the big club wedding. I was there; there were at least six hundred people."

"Yeah, to cover our tracks," Melissa sighs. "But technically, we were already legally married at that point. And expecting Vivian."

"Jesus Christ, it's like a soap opera," Spencer shakes her head. "So, shotgun wedding because you got accidentally pregnant after having an affair?"

"No," Melissa rolls her eyes. "I wasn't pregnant when I got married the _first_ time. And we wanted children; we always talked about it. I told him about my multiple miscarriages and so we thought it might be difficult, but Vivian was a blessing. She still is."

"Then what's the point?" Spencer shrugs. "What's there to be jealous of?"

"I don't want to have to tell _this_ story to her when she's older," Melissa sighs. "How her father and I decided, in a split second and definitely under the influence of alcohol, to get married and then got pregnant before we could even contemplate whether or not it was a good idea. And you'll never have to do that. You and Toby have this… this _history_ that Wren and I have never had. And you two just _get_ each other in a way that we probably never will."

"Melissa, you make us sound like we're carved from the same stone," Spencer says. "That's not how it works."

"Yeah, but you kind of are," Melissa then states. "And don't get me wrong, Wren makes me happy and I love him. I don't regret anything. But… Toby worships the ground you walk on and he would never even _dream_ of looking at another woman and you and I both know Wren isn't like that."

"From personal experience," Spencer frowns. "I know."

"Honey," Veronica puts in. "You still love him. You made a commitment. You have a child together. It's time to put this in the past and move forward."

"Mom, no," Spencer disagrees. "Just because _you've_ decided to stick to your loveless marriage for the rest of your days, doesn't mean Melissa has to. If you want out, get out. Nothing's binding you to him regardless of what you think. Vivian will understand; she'll want you to be happy."

"And what, just leave him?" Melissa gasps. "No. I love him. And what will people think? Or say?"

"And _my_ marriage isn't loveless, thank you very much," Veronica frowns. "Just because we're not holding hands and kissing and telling each other we love each other every second of every day doesn't mean we don't still feel those things for one another."

Spencer glances between her mother and sister and decides, "This wasn't enough alcohol."

"Mommy!" Lilly's voice bursts into the conversation as she skips up to them gleefully. "Look at my nails!"

"Ooh, what a pretty pink, Lil!" Spencer exclaims brightly. "And look at that! Is that a snowflake on your pinky?"

"Yeah, she asked me if I wanted a design," Lilly explains. "And I got a snowflake. Grace got a flower."

"I decided to go with this frosty blue instead of the black," Grace explicates, much to her cousin's chagrin. "It goes better with the winter, doesn't it?"

"It looks beautiful," Spencer agrees. "Blue is your color for sure."

With their nails dry and sparkling with color, the girls then head off for identical massages in order to ease the tension from the previous conversation. Meanwhile, across the way, Henry debuts in his very first ski lesson in a class full of children, with his father, uncle and grandfather looking on. Wren nods towards the four-year-old and, to his brother-in-law, says, "He's kind of a natural, isn't he?"

"I swear this kid is good at everything," Toby shakes his head. "That's a weird thing to say, isn't it? It's weird to say about a preschooler?"

"Not weird at all," Peter disagrees. "It's that Hastings blood running through his veins. He's going to go far. You'll see."

"Sure he will," Wren smirks. "But he's no more a Hastings than I am."

Peter frowns and Toby remains silent with his agreement. "What's that? I can't be proud of my grandson?"

"Sure, but don't chalk it all up to your side of the family," Wren replies. "You must've had some skiers in your line, no doubt. Right Toby?"

"Oh, I don't know. My parents were certainly not the outdoorsy type," Toby shrugs. "We went camping once and my father complained the whole time because there was the tiniest hole in the ceiling of our tent and my mother got poison ivy. He certainly likes to watch sports, my father, but I'm not sure he's ever played one in his life."

"I rowed for Oxford; all four years," Wren states proudly. "I'm hoping to introduce Vivian to the sport. Crew is extremely respectable and at an institution like Oxford… She could flourish."

"She's thirteen," Toby points out. "You're already looking at colleges?"

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared, mate," Wren shakes his head. "She's a very bright girl, you know. One of the best, if not _the_ best, in her year. We've got to get her prepared for the future so she can claim what's rightfully coming to her."

Toby can almost feel his eyes glaze over with boredom. Instead, he turns his attention back to where Henry is gliding slowly but surely across the freshly fallen snow. Peter then asks, "What other schools have you considered?"

"UPenn, of course, per family tradition. And I wanted to check out Harvard-"

"Excellent choice and Veronica, surely, would agree."

"- but because Viv's favorite teacher went to Yale, she wants to check that one out instead," Wren sighs, adding, "Yale. Can you believe it? The arch nemesis of Harvard? Please. What a pathetic excuse for a school."

"Spencer got her master's at Yale," Toby points out. "It's one of the best schools in the country."

"Well, she's one of the only good things to come out of that hole, then," Wren replies. "Probably the best thing, no doubt."

Suddenly, Toby wishes he hadn't brought it up at all. After a beat, Wren blows warm air into his freezing palms and suggests, "Bloody hell, it's cold out here. Should I get us some coffee to warm up?"

"Sounds good," Peter agrees and the moment Wren's out of earshot, he adds, "Anything to make you quit talking for a moment."

Toby's eyes widen, but he keeps his comment to himself, smiling inwardly. Peter chuckles and asks, "I didn't say that out loud, did I?"

Smirking, Toby replies, "Your secret's safe with me."

"He's certainly a lot to handle, that one," Peter shakes his head. "I have to say, you've been a good sport all these years, dealing with him. He's nothing if not relentless in his efforts and unwittingly aloof."

"That's a nice way of putting it," Toby says. "I try to ignore him for the most part, honestly. It's not easy but it's what's best for my psyche."

"No, I'm sure it's not," Peter sighs. "But you're very laidback, Toby. Very easygoing. It's always amazed me; Veronica seems to think I'm quite the hothead. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle what you have."

"Must run in the family," Toby jokes in an effort to steer the conversation away from him. "Spencer's the same way."

"I suppose she is," Peter chuckles. "Quick to jump to conclusions, sailor mouth, difficult to reason with?"

Toby grins. "Sounds like my wife."

"She's a pistol for sure. Always has been," Peter agrees. "It certainly keeps life interesting."

"Yeah," He agrees. "It certainly does."

The rest of the afternoon is spent hitting the slopes the moment the girls reunite with the rest of the family. Lilly joins her younger brother in ski school to learn the ropes while Grace and Vivian head off to the bunny slope, the latter already bragging that she could easily head to the medium level but wouldn't want to scare off her novice cousin. Spencer's pretty sure the look in Grace's eye is murderously competitive and she warns her daughter, quietly, to be nice. Toby's still in one piece when she finds him and he tells her his morning with the guys wasn't as terrible as he'd been expecting, despite the fact he'll probably never get over his beef with his brother-in-law. Spencer decides it's probably best not to play the 'I told you so' card.

The next morning, they have brunch and then head to the outdoor skating rink for some good old-fashioned winter fun. Henry slips and slides across the ice, giggling his little head off, while Lilly hangs onto the side of the rink, moving ever so slowly around in a circle. Vivian's been taking lessons since she was small and therefore, tries her best to teach her eldest cousin how to perform a perfect axel, but she and Grace both end up falling hard on their bottoms and laughing together, their animosity long forgotten. It's a wonderful morning and, once they've warmed up considerably following such an activity, Grace suggests they all hit the snow once more, but this time for tubing. Lilly agrees first, mainly because she hadn't quite enjoyed her skiing experience the day prior, but it doesn't take long for the rest of their family to be in accord.

"Lilly will you ride with me?" Henry asks as they head towards the mountain with their cousin and uncle in tow. "I don't want to go by myself."

"I'm riding with Grace," Lilly laments as their sister reaches for a tube and hooks it onto the pulley. "I'll ride with you next time, okay?"

Henry frowns and looks to Vivian, who's reaching for her own tube. "Will _you_ ride with me, Viv?"

"No," She scoffs. "I'm old enough to go by myself. Why would I ride with you?"

The four-year-old pouts and Toby acquires a tube for his son, telling him, "I'll go with you, Hen. We'll go super fast; faster than any of these guys. Okay?"

Henry nods and skips forward, nearly tripping over his own snow boots. "And we'll race Vivian and beat her? We're gonna beat her, right?"

"I can still hear you," Vivian rolls her eyes. "Have fun _trying_ to beat me."

The moment his niece is out of earshot, Toby scoops his son into his arms and whispers, "We're _so_ going to beat her."

Henry giggles excitedly as they join the others at the top of the mountain. Grace and Lilly are just positioning themselves on their tube, their uncle directly beside them, as Grace calls, "Uncle Wren, we're going to _crush_ you."

"You'll have to catch me first, then, won't you?" He grins back and, on three, they take off down the mountain.

The girls' delightful shrieks of glee and shrill laughter carry all the way down and it brings a smile to Toby's face, surely glad they're having such a great time. They do end up beating Wren to the bottom, sliding to a stop just before the ten-foot mound of snow and ice that serves as a marking place for the end of the course. Just as they get out of the way, Vivian hops onto her tube and pushes off, saying, "Catch me if you can! See you losers at the bottom!"

"Hey!" Henry shrieks as he clambers onto the tube with his father. "She's cheating! She's going before we did!"

"That's alright," Toby says, reaching out and propelling them down the hill. "We'll catch up to her. We can still win."

Icy winter air nips at their exposed faces as they race down the mountain, cutting through snow and ice. Henry's giggling and shouting, "Go faster! Go faster, Daddy!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying," Toby chuckles, swinging his free arm out and pushing down in the snow in an effort to give them a little more momentum. "We're almost past her! Just a few more feet…"

In moments, they glide right past Vivian, who shouts an indignant, "Hey!" in response. Henry laughs even harder and pleads, "Can we go faster? Let's go faster!"

"Hen, we're already going pretty fast," Toby replies and just then, gravity takes over, momentum increases exponentially and they hit a small patch of ice.

They go careening down the hill; they're reaching the bottom of the slope, now, but as the ten-foot pile of snow and ice grows nearer and nearer, they're not slowing down even in the slightest. They're only a few feet from impact now; Toby acts in a split second, tossing Henry off the side of the tube to avoid collision as it upends and sends him sailing through the air and over the edge of the snow barricade. He feels something sharp slice into his forehead upon crashing and soon, a warm and sticky trickle of what he's assuming is blood is cascading down his temple and onto his cheek. Toby hears footsteps and voices next and he pulls himself first to a sitting position to gain his bearings and then stands, shaking off excess snow and attempting to staunch the bleeding with his glove.

"… and we went faster and faster and it was _so_ fun, Mommy," Henry can be heard as they grow closer to him. "And then Daddy went _flying_. It was so funny!"

"I'm not sure Daddy thought it was so funny," Spencer tells him and when Toby rounds the corner, they're both waiting for him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just practicing for the Cavanaugh family circus," He jokes and swipes at his forehead once more. "Needs a bit more work, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh no, Daddy!" Henry's eyes widen. "You're bleeding!"

"I'm alright, buddy," Toby assures him. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Henry shakes his head. "No. I want to go down again!"

"Don't do that again," Spencer warns him and pulls him into an embrace. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm fine," He insists a third time. "It's just a little cut. I'll get some ice on it."

He grins cheekily but his wife is not appreciative of the jest. "What were you thinking? You guys were doing at least seventy down that hill."

"Henry wanted to beat Vivian," Toby shrugs. "I did not take gravity into account, though."

"Mommy," Henry then asks. "Will you ride with me this time?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees and loops the tube back onto the pulley system. "We're not going as fast as you and Daddy went, though."

Henry appears to be a bit disappointed by this notion and it makes Toby chuckle. He heads back to their cabin to clean up and dress his wound and by the time he gets ready to head back out there, his family returns shivering and blue-lipped. They pull off their snow pants, boots and coats and warm up just a bit before heading out to dinner with the rest of the family in the lodge, all of them having plenty to say about their day. When dinner is cleared away, they rest in the great common room by the gigantic fireplace sipping identical mugs of steaming hot cocoa as a generous snowfall begins outside. Even Toby has to admit it; this family vacation hasn't been nearly as terrible as he'd been expecting it to be. The children are engaged in a rousing game of Jenga- which, somehow, the tower always seems to fall on Henry's turn- as their parents and grandparents look on fondly, enjoying the company.

"Isn't this nice?" Melissa finally breaks the silence. "All of us, all together? The kids are getting along, it's snowing, this resort is _beautiful_ , it's the holiday season… It's just nice, isn't it?"

"It is nice," Peter replies. "I do have to admit that it's _killing_ me to be away from the office for so long, but I have to say this is a good excuse to be away."

"Dad, this _was_ your idea," Spencer points out. "And I don't think it'll kill you to take a break for a week."

"It was your mother's idea, actually," Peter corrects her. "But I know, you're right, I work too hard. It's nice to kind of relax for a bit, kick back with all my kids and all my grandkids. I don't see them as often as I should."

"All your kids?" Spencer then asks. " _All_ of them?"

Peter frowns, still wary of the Jason factor even after all these years, and, as she always does when he's mentioned, Veronica quickly changes the subject, uncomfortable. "We should make this an annual trip, don't you think? All of us coming up here once a year to sort of get away from it all?"

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Wren agrees with her, always desperate to be on her good side. "We're all always so busy; it'll be nice to have this to look forward to every year."

"Yeah, it'll be great," Melissa says. "That's the most important thing in life, right? Family?"

"That it is," Peter nods. "Spencer? Toby? You guys in?"

Spencer's still a little wary but, to her surprise, Toby agrees from beside her. "Sure. Count us in. The kids will love it."

There's a crash from the coffee table and Grace shrieks, "Henry! You need to be more gentle!"

"I _always_ lose!" Henry cries in despair. "It's not fair!"

"Here, stop. Let me show you," Vivian says as she and Grace rebuild the tower. "Push it very slowly and very carefully with one finger, like this. See? Then when it's mostly out…"

She pinches the block between two fingers and easily slips it from the tower. "There you go. Now you try."

He does exactly what she's instructed him to do and though the tower wobbles the tiniest bit, he manages to extract a block of his own for the first time. "Hey! I did it!"

"See?" Vivian smiles. "Not that hard."

Lilly abandons ship and comes over to the loveseat her parents are sitting upon, curling up in her mother's lap and emitting a yawn. "I'm tired, Mommy."

"Yeah, I bet," Spencer says, running a hand through her hair. "We've had a busy couple of days, haven't we?"

She nods and yawns again as Toby asks her, "Ready to go home, Lil?"

The six-year-old shakes her head, adding, "I don't want to go home! Can we live here?"

Spencer chuckles and offers, "Maybe not, babe. But what if we come back next year?"

Lilly agrees. " _Every_ year."

To her father, Spencer says, "Okay. Lilly's in, too."

* * *

"Honestly, does life get any better than this?"

Toby glances over at his best friend, who's juggling her son's many winnings of the day and seems to glow in the sunlight, and grins. "No, I honestly don't think it does."

"Mom!" Bennett shouts, running up to her. "Here! Happy birthday."

Emily chuckles and struggles a bit with the new addition. "My birthday's not for months now, Ben. It's August."

"Early birthday, then," He shrugs. "I am _crushing_ these games right now."

"Oh yeah?" Emily remarks. "And what am I supposed to do with all of these stuffed animals?"

"I don't know," He replies. "Don't let them go to waste."

He goes to take off towards yet another game, but Emily calls out, "Wait! Where's your mother? Can't you give her some of your prizes?"

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Bennett grins mischievously and Toby chuckles.

"Oh yes, ha ha, you're very funny," Emily rolls her eyes. "You've never made _that_ joke before."

Bennett laughs. "Mama went to the haunted house with Brynn and Grace. She did not look happy about it."

As he races off towards whack-a-mole, Emily says, "Paige _hates_ scary stuff. Brynn, too. What would possess them to go into the haunted house?"

"That would probably be my daughter's doing," Toby replies. "Sorry. She's a thrill-seeker for sure."

"Eh, it's probably fine," Emily waves it off. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Well…" Toby trails off. "They could get locked in there with a crowbar."

"No, we're not in _Rosewood_ ," Emily disagrees. "We're in Ocean City."

And it's true; as their vacations in the Poconos with Spencer's family have now become tradition, so have their annual summer vacations in Ocean City, Maryland with their best friends and their families. They'd rent rooms overlooking the ocean for a week at the end of the summer for one last hurrah before all the kids went back to school and to say they enjoyed their time all together would be an understatement. It's a week straight of ocean cruises, speed boating, parasailing for the brave and all the beach fun and ocean fare they could handle. Today, they're enjoying all the boardwalk has to offer, with most of the children racing around from carnival game to carnival game, trying their luck to win all the prizes they could. So far, Bennett, Paige and Emily's son, has been the most successful.

"Well at least you found _your_ wife," Toby then says. "I have no idea where mine is."

"I haven't seen her," Emily shrugs. "But all of these carnival games? I'm sure the Hastings game face has made an appearance, somewhere."

"Yeah," He chuckles and grins over at Lilly, who's playing a rousing game of air hockey with Hanna, McKenzie and Caleb. Jason's knocking over milk bottles with a baseball, his daughter Harper cheering him on, when Toby says, "Hey, remember last year? When we were at the beach that one day and Alison just appeared out of nowhere?"

"That's what she always does," Emily shakes her head. "Back in the day, after she went missing but before we knew she was still alive, she'd do that all the time. Just appear, randomly, out of thin air. She visited all of us and we all thought we were going crazy. I mean, as far as we knew, she was dead."

"She's certainly a character," Toby says. "She just… shows up whenever it's convenient for her. Here, on the beach, New Year's Eve that one year, Lilly's birthday party in May…"

"She sends the twins cards on their birthday every year," Emily comments. "It drives Paige insane."

"I'm sure it does," Toby sighs. "Honestly, once all the madness had died down and Alison left Rosewood before any of us did… I thought we'd never see or hear from her again."

"Me too," Emily agrees. "And yet…"

There's a jingle emanating from a doorway at the end of the boardwalk, where they're standing, and out walks Spencer, Aria, Henry and Frankie, all eating ice cream cones. Emily chuckles and says, "Found your wife."

"Yes," Toby grins. "And my son has found the sugar. Not surprised."

"First ice cream of the trip," Aria says as they come closer. "Certainly can't complain."

"Henry, you've had that cone for all of about five minutes and it's already all over you," Spencer chuckles and hands him a napkin. "Clean yourself up, please."

"That seems kind of pointless," Toby says. "The second he goes back to eating, it'll be a mess again."

"Good point," Spencer agrees and keeps a handful for herself. "That's why I brought extra."

"Can we go to the pool after?" Henry then asks, dripping chocolate ice cream onto the boardwalk under the melting sun.

"Yeah, I want to go swimming," Frankie agrees and Aria smirks.

"We've got the whole ocean to play in," She remarks. "And you want to go to the pool?"

Henry nods. "The pool has a waterslide."

"Yeah," Frankie agrees. "And no sharks or jellyfish."

"Cannot argue with that logic," Emily grins. "Unless we want to bathe the boys in ammonia again, like last year."

Spencer shakes her head adamantly at the memory; the year prior, as the younger boys were combing the sands for seashells, they had picked up what looked like a wet plastic bag but had _actually_ been a rather large jellyfish. Both had been stung and both had screamed like their hands were on fire. She says, "Let's go swimming before we head to dinner. Finish your ice cream, Hen, and go see if your sisters are ready to go."

Brynn, Grace and Paige emerge from the exit of the haunted house, with Grace exclaiming how lame it had been, how fake and hokey everything had seemed, and the other two still a bit wide-eyed and pale-faced regardless. They round up the troops and head back to their hotel, changing into their best swimwear and heading downstairs to the pool, which did indeed have a waterslide and a soak and splash station for children. Their parents grab a few cocktails by the pool and keep a close eye on all the children racing about, diving into the deep end, careening down the waterslide and waiting just beneath the large bucket of water to get soaked when the timer hit zero. Needless to say, they work up quite an appetite, and once everyone is dried and dressed, they take a boat to Fenwick Island to visit their favorite local restaurant, Bahama Mama's.

All of the tables are on the water and they're watching the sun sink below the horizon into the rolling sea when their food is brought to them. Most of the children had gotten chicken fingers or pasta or sandwiches, much preferring to leave the seafood eating to their parents. Grace, McKenzie and Bennett, however, had decided that today, they would be adventurous and they, too, had ordered crabs like the adults. They hadn't, however, expected them to come in a bucket, completely whole. Grace balks at her dinner the second the waiter upends the bucket onto the table and asks, "Um… How am I supposed to eat this?"

The waiter chuckles, hands her a small hammer, and leaves them behind. Toby smirks from the other end of the table, saying, "Hey, you wanted to try it. You've got to do the work."

"Ew," Henry whines from his spot next to Bennett. "That one's eyes are still open."

"No they're not," He shakes his head. "At least, I _hope_ they're not."

"How do I _do_ this?" McKenzie asks, picking at the end of one of the crab's legs. "Is it even worth all the work?"

"It's actually really good," Hanna replies, already to the meat on her own set of crabs. "Dip it in some butter… Mm. You won't find a place in Ocean City with better crabs' legs, that's for sure."

"This is like the Renaissance," Grace says, hesitantly knocking the hammer against a crab leg. "Picking apart my own food and eating it with my hands."

"Grace," Spencer chuckles. "You've got to hit that thing like you mean it."

With a resonating crack, the shell splinters and Grace is able to pull one of the legs clean off of the body. She waits for McKenzie and Bennett to do the same so they can each take their first bite together. McKenzie closes her eyes first and Bennett chuckles, asking, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to pretend this thing wasn't swimming, like, this morning," She replies and blindly reaches for the butter, dipping the leg before bringing it to her mouth. "Okay, ready when you guys are."

"One, two, three," They count down together and each take their very first bite, the rest of the table waiting on baited breath. Bennett makes a face and says, "It's kind of chewy."

"It's okay," McKenzie nods and takes another bite. "It's different than I thought it would be."

"I think it's really good," Grace nods and turns to her side, where her sister is watching, wide-eyed. "Do you want a bite, Lil?"

Lilly instantly shakes her head and munches on a French fry instead. Harper, who'd decided a month ago to follow her mother's vegetarian footsteps, looks paradoxically curious and skeptical, saying, "Sometimes I want to eat meat again but I don't think crabs will make me do it."

Grace chuckles and asks, "Brynn? Frankie? Henry?"

"Ew, gross!" Frankie disagrees. "They have _legs!_ "

"Crabs are supposed to swim in the ocean," Henry agrees. "Not in your stomach."

"I'll try it," Brynn shrugs and sneaks a leg off of her brother's plate. She's chewing for just a moment before she grimaces, saying, " _Ugh_. Why is this food? It tastes _terrible_."

The table is a mess of empty crab shells, drained butter containers and the hammers, which had done so much work in such a little amount of time, sure sign that dinner had been delicious and everyone had enjoyed every last bite. They take the ferry back to the beach, where there's a bonfire and a few of the resort employees are handing out supplies for s'mores, something the kids and even the adults truly enjoy as the evening wanes to night. Lungs full of salty sea air and thoughts filled with joyous, fun-filled memories, everyone gets a great night's sleep and awakens the next day ready for more vacation fun. Following breakfast on the pier, Toby, Spencer and the kids are the first ones on the beach that morning and they take advantage of their early arrival by getting a prime spot to watch the waves crash in from chairs in the soft sand.

At the shoreline, Grace and Lilly are teaching Henry how to boogie board, laughing as the surf pushes him forward and sucks him back in, and truly getting soaked by the high tide. It makes Spencer grin with glee; surely, with three utterly different personalities, her children don't always get along, but she definitely lives for the moments when they do. Toby seems to agree; from beside her, he exhales serenely and asks, "What if we just moved here? What if we lived on the beach and opened a scuba shop and taught the kids how to surf and sail instead of sending them to school?"

"Well, it would suck during hurricane season," Spencer replies. "And winter. It snows in Maryland, too."

"I'd build our house." Toby states. "It'd be stable."

"Not doubting that." Spencer says. "But I think a lot of the novelty of this place would wear off if we stayed forever."

"The kids are happy here."

"They're happy at home, too."

"We don't have any responsibilities, tasks or chores here."

"We'd get some if we moved here."

"Hey, I can dream, can't I?" He pokes her side. "Keep your rationalizing and your logic to yourself."

She chuckles. "Sorry."

"You don't want to live here?"

"I always thought it would be nice to live on a beach. But the sand would get everywhere, it's so expensive and so much upkeep," Spencer explains. "Plus, I think the reason Ocean City is so special is because we only come once a year. It's something we look forward to and something we enjoy and then miss when we're not here. But it wouldn't be that way if we lived here. It would just be… home."

"Yeah, you're right," Toby agrees. "And we've already got one of those. We're not Melissa and Wren, right? We can't afford three houses."

"I still can't believe them," Spencer shakes her head. "The one in Philly, sure, that's their main location, and I can understand the one in London, too. It's where his whole family lives. But did they really need a place in New York? They go to New York twice a year. And Melissa told me they're looking at real estate in the Hamptons, too. Are these people made of money?"

"Hey, they're not going to be this young forever," Toby jokes. "They'll need _plenty_ of options for when they retire."

"They'll probably head south like everyone does," Spencer says. "Or, no, they'll do us one better. They'll buy half the Seychelles."

Toby laughs. "And I take it we won't be doing that?"

"Toby, we aren't even forty yet," Spencer says. "Calm down with the retirement talk."

"Okay, okay," He agrees, grinning. "I just thought it would be nice to consider."

"Ew, I really don't want to think about it," Spencer disagrees. "When we're ready to retire, our kids will be out there on their own. And they're still so young right now and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Yeah," Toby agrees, glancing out to where all three of them are having the time of their lives. "You and me both."

There are a few shrieks of laughter a moment later and when Toby and Spencer glance up, Jason, Aria, Harper and Frankie have joined them on the beach. The rest of the clan is soon to follow and then the day passes much more quickly than they would have liked. Lilly, Henry and Frankie bury their fathers in sand and cover their buried bodies with various seashells, laughing when Toby and Jason emerge from the depths of the beach like sandy monsters awoken from the dead. Grace and Harper work on their tan while Bennett, Brynn and McKenzie splash about in the surf and all the parents make small talk and simply enjoy the day. When evening eventually comes for them, they grab a quick dinner at the restaurant inside the hotel before returning to their rooms, their children already showing signs of exhaustion. A long day at the beach means all eight of those children are passed out the moment it grows dark in the skies outside.

Their parents, however, have different plans.

"Welcome!" Hanna greets them, throwing open their hotel room door. "Come on in! Just be a _little_ quiet- McKenzie's passed out in the other room."

Toby and Spencer step over the threshold into the common area, where the rest of their friends had already gathered. Jokingly, Spencer asks, "Is this where the party's at?"

Hanna grins and Spencer's pretty sure that's a bottle of vodka under her friend's arm. "You tell me."

"It's nine o'clock on a Tuesday," Spencer reminds her friend, taking a seat around the round table, her husband following suit. "We have _children_. We're going jet skiing tomorrow."

"I also have tequila," Hanna replies, seeming not to have heard her. "If that's more your speed."

On her other side is Jason and Spencer's immediately worried, asking softly, "Are you going to be okay?"

"It's fine," Jason nods, motioning towards his water bottle. "I'm not drinking. Promise."

Spencer nods. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be-"

"You're not being anything. It's good. I'll be Sober Sam tonight," Jason grins. "The D.D. Someone's got to be, right?"

Hanna's busy pouring various amounts of tequila and vodka into different glasses that came straight from the hotel, passing them out to each of her friends. Spencer agrees, "Yeah. Absolutely."

"I don't have shot glasses, so I'm working with what I've got, here," Hanna says. "Obviously, don't drink this like you would a glass of water, unless you want to die of alcohol poisoning."

"And we're drinking hard liquor because…?" Aria trails off. "Life is oh so stressful on vacation?"

"No," Hanna disagrees. "Because the kids got to have their fun and now, so do we."

After everyone's been served, Caleb seems to desire playing along with his wife's antics, for he suggests, "Let's play Never Have I Ever."

"Ooh, yeah, let's do that!" Hanna grins excitedly and Emily scoffs.

"Please," She shakes her head. "That game is for high school kids and besides, I've known you all since we were literal children and I know what you have and haven't done."

"That's what you think," Hanna disagrees. "We'll soon find out if that's true."

"I hate to be that person," Toby says. "But what is Never Have I Ever?"

Jason chuckles. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"We're going to go around the table and take turns saying things we've never done," Spencer explains to her poor, out of the loop husband. "And if someone has done them, then they take a drink. At the end of the game, the person who isn't as drunk as the rest of us wins."

"An automatic win for me, then," Jason teases and they chuckle.

"No, put the same amount of water in your cup as we have alcohol," Aria says. "It still counts, Jason."

"Okay, who wants to start?" Hanna asks and when no one volunteers, she groans. "Okay, _I_ will. Never have I ever fallen in love at first sight."

There's silence and no movement around the table and Spencer immediately says, "Wow, way to start off with the most awkward statement around."

"I'm sorry!" Hanna shrugs. "I already couldn't think of anything."

But then, to everyone's surprise, both Paige and Jason take a drink. Paige smiles shyly at Emily when she says, "I don't think I realized it was love at the time. Or at least, I wouldn't admit it to myself. But it was. It definitely was."

"As for me," Jason shrugs to a teary-eyed Aria. "That pink hair, man. You always got to me."

They kiss chastely and Hanna prods her own husband. "Your turn."

"Never have I ever," Caleb begins and then a wicked grin comes over his face. "Been arrested."

Save for himself and Paige, the rest of the table takes a drink and Emily comments, "Real nice. You just wanted us all to drink."

"Hey," He shrugs. "That's how I win."

It's Toby's turn next and he takes a moment to think about what exactly he wants to say. "Never have I ever been drunk."

The entire table takes a drink then and he grins triumphantly. Hanna exclaims, "Never?"

"It's true," Spencer confirms. "The man knows his limits."

"Impressive."

"My turn?" Spencer asks and when they nod, she adds, "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

"Ugh, you're so boring," Hanna says before downing another shot of tequila, as Jason, Emily and Aria follow suit.

Spencer shakes her head. "I am literally so disappointed in all of you."

"We've _all_ done it," Aria shrugs. "It's not right, but it's something everyone's done."

Jason ceases the disagreement with his turn. "Okay, never have I ever… gone skinny dipping."

All three of the other couples take a drink and Aria exclaims, "Seriously?"

"Okay," Jason shakes his head. "Apparently we're missing out."

Emily's flushing crimson as she says, "Don't ask."

"Oh, trust me. I wasn't going to," Aria's still slightly mortified at the thought. "Okay, um… Never have I ever had a crush on a friend's parent."

"No, teachers are more your style, right?" Hanna teases and then nearly gags when both Caleb and Jason take a drink. "Who? _Who?_ "

"Yeah, who?" Aria's immediately demanding and both men look petrified.

"Your mom," Caleb says to Aria, who immediately balks, and he backpedals. "This was at least twenty years ago and she was subbing a lot in school and she was nice to me. I don't know!"

"That's all it takes to impress you?" Hanna rolls her eyes. "Someone just has to be _nice_?"

"Who did you like?" Aria then asks Jason, who clams up the tiniest bit.

He admits very, very quietly, "Ashley Marin."

" _My_ mom? My _mom_?" Hanna explodes. "Oh my god, gross. I can never look at you the same way again."

"Okay, Emily, your turn," Spencer says when the hype dies down.

"Okay, um…" She trails off. "Never have I ever cheated on a partner."

For a moment, no one moves and Emily grins. "Good. You guys are awesome."

But then, ever so hesitantly, Aria reaches out and takes a drink. Jason's eyes nearly fall out of his sockets. " _What?_ "

"No, no, not you, it was…" She exhales, frantic. "It was way back when, when I was still dating Ezra, but you kissed me and I let it happen and… I cheated on _him_ , but I cheated on him with you. It's awful and it's stupid, but it happened."

"Jesus, I thought you were trying to kill me," Jason shakes his head. "Let a guy know next time."

"Me?" Paige then asks and when they nod, she says, "Never have I ever been awake for more than a day straight."

Spencer takes a drink and says, "I could _list_ the times. Adderall bender, studying, master's thesis, Grace's colic, doctoral dissertation…"

Toby drinks, too, and adds, "Definitely didn't sleep for at least the first two days while I was in juvie. Too terrifying."

And lastly, Jason. "The first time I ever got drunk _and_ high at the same time. Not pretty, man."

And this is how it goes, if only for a little while. Soon, they're tipsy bordering on drunk and the questions turn personal. Hanna says, "Never have I ever fantasized about anyone in this room."

To her own horror, Caleb takes a drink and so does Emily. Hanna immediately asks, "Who? _Who?_ I need to know who."

"I'd rather not say," He shakes his head, adamant. "It's so embarrassing and you'd never forgive me."

"Yeah, I'm not telling you, either," Emily shakes her head. "Next!"

"Never have I-"

"Caleb, I won't forgive you, regardless," Hanna tells him. "Who were you fantasizing about?"

"It was one time and I don't know why it even-"

"Who was it?"

"Never have I ever," Caleb steamrolls ahead, ignoring her. "Sexted with anyone."

"You guys don't sext?" Spencer asks after she and Toby and Jason and Aria take their drinks. "I feel like that's not true."

"You _do_?" Caleb asks, just as surprised. "What are you, sixteen?"

"Who did you fantasize about?"

"Never have I ever," Toby trails off a moment, faltering for something to say. "Had sex in public."

Everyone takes a drink then, except for himself, Spencer and Jason. Toby's eyes widen and he says, "Okay, that is not the response I was expecting."

"In the bathroom at the planetarium," Emily elaborates cheekily, the alcohol making her lips much looser. "Not the classiest, but-"

"The _planetarium_?" Spencer shrieks. "Space turns you on?"

"Hey, we did it on the second floor of the New York Public Library," Aria shrugs. "Probably less classy than you, Em."

"The _library!_ How dare you!"

"No we did not," Jason sighs and Aria frowns.

"I meant me and Ezra."

"I know what you meant."

"Caleb, _who_ did you fantasize about?"

"Okay, okay," Spencer shakes her head. "Never have I ever had sex in a friend's bed."

Only Hanna and Caleb take a drink and Spencer immediately shakes her head. "Please don't say mine, please don't say mine…"

"It wasn't," Hanna tells her and then rounds, still, on her husband. "Caleb, if you don't tell me-"

"Why does it matter? You'll be mad at me either way!"

"Never have I ever participated in role play," Jason goes next and when his sister and brother-in-law take a drink, he shakes his head. "I did not need to know that. You guys are into some weird shit."

"Yeah, yeah," Spencer waves this off. "I think we're all just waiting for Caleb to come out and say who he's fantasizing about."

"Uh, I'm not, in case it's me," Aria says. "Never have I ever had a threesome."

Unsurprisingly, only Jason takes a drink and when everyone glances expectantly at him, he merely shakes his head. "My twenties, man. Weird, weird times."

"Okay, um," Emily clears her throat. "Never have I ever had to lie about my 'number' to avoid judgment."

Jason and Aria are the drinkers here and Aria slurs when she says, "That's because you've only slept with two people. And _you_ guys have only slept with one. You don't know what it's like! It's awkward!"

"You know what's also really awkward?" Hanna asks drunkenly. "My husband has fantasized about someone in this room and _I still don't know who it is!_ "

Paige concludes their game with, "Never have I ever spoken about my friends' sex lives so openly before."

No one hesitates to down their drinks. After a moment, Jason asks, "So… who won?"

"I don't know," Aria shakes her head. "But I think I'm going to throw up."

"This was emboldening," Spencer says next, pushing back her chair and standing tipsily. "It should be interesting to explain to the kids tomorrow."

"What? Why we smell like a liquor cabinet and can't stop vomiting over our jet skis?" Toby asks. "Come on. Let's get back."

"Caleb, if you don't tell me who you fantasized about-"

The hotel door swings shut behind their friends, leaving the couple to their arguing.

There is a _lot_ of puking the next morning when they finally get on the high seas. None of it has to do with seasickness, despite them blaming it on this malady when their children ask.


	25. look at everything we've grown

**Good morning, good morning! Well... This is it, my friends! This is the final chapter! I cannot even begin to express to you how grateful I am for all of you, for the support you've given me and the encouragement you've continued to show me since the beginning of this story, way back in February. This isn't a goodbye- I don't know when I'll be back, but I can't pretend this is the last you'll hear from me. Writing is what I do; it's who I am. And I'm definitely not going to stop just because a chapter is ending here. So basically what I'm saying is you are all amazing and I want to thank each of you for your kindness and love these past few months. I will never be able to thank you enough.**

 **This chapter title comes from "The Gambler" by Fun. because we have to end where we started. It's a chapter all about letting go, moving on, and it's something I think we all need to embrace, considering today is the final day of filming- ever- for Pretty Little Liars. Thank you all for everything you've given me. I will never be able to repay you. I love you all and I hope to see you again soon in the near future!**

* * *

we move out to the garden, look at everything we've grown

All in all, it had gone surprisingly well.

In no way, shape or form does he think he's acquiring Spencer like a piece of property or anything. For one, that kind of thinking is barbaric and antiquated and for another, not a single person on this earth could ever hope to tell Spencer Hastings what she can and can't do. Years and years of being with her has proven this to be true; she does what she wants when she wants and doesn't give a single shit what anyone else thinks. It's something that's always amused, amazed and, if he's being honest, frustrated him, but he loves that she's able to be her own person in this very way. So telling her parents had been much more for his benefit than hers, or even theirs, as a couple; it isn't like he was asking for permission or anything. Toby was merely assuring the parents of his wonderful girlfriend that he's serious about her (as if they didn't already know) and that their relationship is bound to move forward when he visits her in November. They'd been uncharacteristically thrilled at the idea and it had left Toby's apprehension momentarily at ease.

And now he's standing at the end of his own driveway, staring up at his childhood home, and all the nerves and anxieties come flooding back.

The reason he's come today, a random Thursday in October, is because he knows both his father and his stepmother are occupied at work. He's pretty sure if he even entertained the idea of telling his parents he's going to propose to Spencer he'd actually lose his mind. They do not approve of the relationship for some reason unbeknownst to him even now, six years later, and it's better, he thinks, if he just informs his parents of the engagement after it happens (probably so they won't have time to talk him out of it once it's already over). That old rusty brass key still jingles on his key ring and he fiddles with it nervously, contemplating the task at hand. If his parents are nowhere to be found, this should be a simple task and he shouldn't be feeling this uneasy about it. This logic doesn't stop the feeling of dread from forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Toby?"

A voice from behind startles him and he whirls around in a panic. Luckily for him, it's only Emily, crossing the street from her own childhood home upon the sight of him. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same question," Toby grins, greeting her with a hug. "I didn't know you were in town."

"Job interview," She answers his unasked question. "I'm not really looking to move back to Rosewood, but I'm broke and kind of desperate, right now."

"I hear that," Toby chuckles. "Where? The school?"

"My coach is retiring," Emily nods in confirmation. "She said she thinks I'd be perfect for the job."

"You would," Toby agrees and she grins bashfully.

"Thanks. I'm meeting my mom for lunch, if you want to join? She'd be happy to see you."

"Thanks," He smiles and nods towards his house. "But I've actually got something I need to take care of."

"Is everything okay with your dad?" She then asks and Toby shrugs.

"I guess so. We don't talk much." He replies. "I was actually here to… Well…"

When he trails off, Emily prods, "Pick up something of your mom's?"

"Kind of," Toby affirms. "I guess… You can't tell Spencer, okay?"

"Tell Spencer what?" She asks a bit warily.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," Toby admits and watches the excitement change Emily's visage. "I wanted to see if my mother's ring was still around, somewhere, and if it's in good shape. I don't know. I might see it and want to get her a brand new one, or, I don't know, but-"

" _Oh my god!_ " Emily shrieks, cutting him off and throwing her arms around him again. "You're getting engaged!"

Laughing, Toby hugs back and corrects her. "If she says yes, then yeah, I'm getting engaged."

"Toby, she'll say yes," Emily smirks. "I think it's really sweet you want to use your mother's ring. Have you thought about how you're going to do it? Or when?"

"I'm going to visit her in a few weeks for our anniversary. I was planning on doing it then," Toby says. "As for how… I'm not completely sure yet."

"Okay, well, you can always use me to bounce ideas off of," Emily says and squeals excitedly. "I'm so glad you told me! I'm so excited for you guys!"

"I was actually planning on telling you from the beginning," Toby says. "I don't know. It's nice to have someone else to share this with. Aria and I haven't ever been close and if I told Hanna, Spencer would know tomorrow."

Emily laughs. "That is true."

He bids her farewell a few moments later and slips his house key into the door, hearing the lock click out of place as it swings open and allows him entry. He unconsciously locks the door behind him, still wary to trust the citizens of Rosewood even after all these years and despite the notion that it is technically safe now. It's eerily silent and he does his best not to focus upon the smaller details as he heads upstairs, towards the attic. It's dusty and dark and smells musty, with cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and a spider scurrying across the glass of the only window, facing the street. There are so many boxes of things up here and Toby had honestly forgotten that most of his young life lies forgotten among the decorations for Halloween and Christmas and spare car parts and light bulbs.

In the darkest corner, Toby finds the three large boxes he's been looking for. He opens the first one and a lump grows within his throat; it's full of sweaters, shoes, jeans, skirts and dresses and as Toby lifts them out of the box, his eyes begin to water, because it's been nearly two decades since his mother had worn the clothing and yet, her scent still lingers in the fabric. He's not sure why his father still has his mother's clothes in his possession, why he hasn't thrown them out or at the very least donated them, but he doesn't have the courage to ask. Instead, he folds the clothing very carefully and tucks them back into the box, sliding it across the floor. The next box is full of photographs and it brings Toby a rush of nostalgia. There's his mother, grinning in a wedding dress beside his father, who looks so much younger, and there's another, most likely their first photo as a family, with his mother looking sweaty and exhausted in a hospital bed, but beaming nonetheless with a tiny bundle in her arms, Daniel grinning beside her. From there, Toby finds album after album full of photos of him at various ages; six months old and grinning toothlessly at the camera, his face covered in green frosting at his first birthday party, two-years-old and impossibly blonde, his mother chasing him through the yard. He's not sure why his father had kept these albums hidden away for all his life, but Toby's adamant that these will be coming home with him whenever he leaves.

It's the third box that contains what he's looking for. There are a bunch of his mother's possessions, but what he really wants is the jewelry box lying at the bottom of the carton. He remembers the day she was committed like it was yesterday; she wasn't allowed any personal items behind the walls of the sanitarium and it had pained her greatly that she could not have a photo of her son or her wedding ring, her two most prized possessions. Toby had tried to be of some assistance; _I'm not going to change much, Mom, and I'm going to visit all the time. You won't need a picture to remember what I look like_. She'd smiled, the first real smile he'd gotten in a while, and he'd kept his promise and visited her religiously, every chance he got. Her ring had been a bit more difficult to part with and she'd slipped it off somberly and tucked it into Toby's open palm, telling him, _Now I want you to take good care of my ring, okay Toby? It's very special to me._ Toby had tried a joke- _Because diamonds are a girl's best friend?_ \- and failed. Marion had shaken her head and said, _Because it's a symbol of love and trust. And no matter what happens or what has happened, nothing can change that._ It's something he hadn't quite understood until after she'd passed, but what she'd said next will stay with him until the end of his days. _Someday when you're ready, when you've fallen in love, you'll understand. Maybe you'll even want to give that special someone my ring and I would be more than happy to give it to you. Remember that. Remember that you'll always have my blessing._ Toby had faltered, _But Mom, you'll be here for that, won't you? If I ever get married… You'll be at the wedding?_ And she had smiled, tears in her eyes, and brought him in for an embrace. _Oh Toby. I wouldn't miss that for the world._

He ends up leaving the house with more than what he came here for. He couldn't leave his childhood memories behind and more importantly, he couldn't leave her most prized possessions rotting in the attic, either. He finds the photo of himself she'd been desperate to bring; a small, folded edge school photo, from sixth or seventh grade, when his hair had been in a transitory period from blonde to chestnut brown and he looked like he'd spent all summer surfing in California. He's not sure if he wants to propose to Spencer using his mother's ring and he's not sure what he wants to do with the photo albums full of memories he now has in his possession. But he does know he needs to let go of every heart wrenching, somber, woeful memory surrounding his mother unless he wants to mourn her for the rest of his life. He'd like to remember her in a positive light and he's only going to be able to do that if he allows himself to get some closure.

Toby finds himself driving towards the mausoleum before he can register what he's doing. He takes the quiet empty path towards his mother's tomb and his footsteps echo off the smooth marble. Replacing the dead hydrangeas with fresh, sweet-smelling ones instead, Toby heaves a sigh and toys with his mother's ring, still between his fingers even now. It's deadly silent inside and desperate to break this, he says, softly, "Hi Mom. I'm sorry it's been so long since… since I've visited. It's not that I forgot or anything; I never could. It's just… October 24th comes every year whether I want it to or not."

"Anyway… I'm going to ask Spencer to marry me," Toby continues. "And I know you always had every intention of being there so I wanted to make sure you knew. I'm happy with her; I'm so ridiculously happy, I can't even put it into words. I don't really know where our journey together is going to take us, but I'm hoping it'll take us far away from here. I'll always come back and visit you; I promise. I love and miss you so much."

He hopes that wherever she is, she understands how much he needs this, how much he needs to let go.

Toby's at peace the rest of the day and can only imagine it's because she does.

* * *

"Should I put this box in the backseat? We're kind of running out of room back there."

"Whatever doesn't fit in my car will still fit on the truck."

"You guys are going to look hilarious strolling up to New York with all of this shit. There isn't going to be enough room in the whole city for all of your belongings, let alone your teeny little apartment."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Did I ask for your input?"

"Does it matter?" Hanna sticks her tongue out. "You're getting it anyway."

"Is this box of dire importance?" Aria asks, carefully stepping down the stairs from the loft. "Or should it go on the truck?"

"Hold on," Spencer grins cheekily. "Let me ask my husband."

Aria smirks, shaking her head. "Are you going to do this all day?"

"Toby," Spencer calls into the open door of the moving van. "Aria's box- important or not?"

"Not especially," He calls back. "Here, give it to me. I'll put it in here."

"Toby!" Emily then calls from the top of the staircase. "Is this the last box?"

"Not sure," Toby then beams, nodding towards Spencer. "I'll have to ask the Mrs."

"Good lord, you guys are so annoying," Hanna rolls her eyes. "It'll be a nice break to have the two of you in New York for a while so you're not shoving your newlywed status in our faces all the time."

"You shoved your newlywed status in _our_ faces for a year," Spencer points out and Emily nods her agreement, handing off the final box.

"She's got a point, you know," Emily says. "What's wrong, Hanna? Two years in and the heat's already died down?"

"Nothing's dying down, thank you very much," She disagrees. "But at least we aren't nauseating about it."

"Oh, but we're only nauseating because we know it bothers you," Spencer teases. "Shouldn't have said anything."

She purses her lips as Toby hops out of the truck and seals it shut, Aria doing the same to the back of Spencer's SUV. After the hugs and farewells are doled out, they hit the open road, the moving trailer bouncing around unsteadily behind them. Excitedly, Spencer says, "This is our first road trip! This is legitimately the beginning of the rest of our lives."

"I know. The rest of our lives…" He repeats and glances over, meeting her eyes. "All three of them."

Her hand instantly flocks to her stomach, where their very first raspberry-sized child rests. "Yeah. I'm still kind of freaking out about that so let's not even go there."

"Everything is going to be okay."

"I hate it when you say that."

"I'm sorry," He smirks. "But it is. We're going to figure it out. We'll be alright."

"Well I know _we'll_ be alright," Spencer says. "It's us. We're always alright. But I found it hard enough to balance my own life with school and exams and everything in grad and undergrad. How the hell am I going to manage another?"

"Well you'll have me too," He says. "You're not in this alone. We'll have to figure out a schedule that works for both of us but there will be plenty of time for that."

"Our first schedule? Seems marriage-y," Spencer grins and he chuckles, too.

They pass her childhood home and his, too, and find themselves slowly getting filled with an odd sense of nostalgia as they prepare to leave everything behind. Toby sighs and says, "I never thought I'd ever say this, but I'm actually kind of going to miss this place."

"Ew, why?" Spencer asks. "This town is a nightmare and made both of our lives a living hell."

"I know," Toby agrees. "And I hate that. I hate this town for doing that to us. But… I mean, the loft is the first place I ever felt at home, after my mom died, and the Grille is where I always used to escape to whenever things with Jenna would get tough. Which, honestly, was all the time."

"Yeah, you're right," Spencer sighs. "And we always used to go to… what was that place called? The little Italian restaurant?"

"Buccoli's?" Toby fills in and she nods.

"That's the one. Their penne alla vodka was incredible," She says. "Did you hear they're closing? They're putting a Chipotle in."

"Gross," Toby frowns. "They're really trying to rebrand this town, huh? Next thing you know, they'll close The Brew and replace it with a Starbucks."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Spencer agrees. "I guess I'll miss some of these places too, but I'm not going to miss Rosewood."

"I'll miss the Edgewood Motor Court," Toby says instead and she smiles. "I'll miss our spot at Lookout Point."

"Soon," Spencer replies as they pass the cerulean welcome sign and the town shrinks in the rearview mirror. "We'll be coming back here with our little one… As a family of three."

Toby takes a deep breath and finds himself nodding; he hadn't yet gotten used to the notion, either. "Yeah. That's so weird to think about."

"I don't want to spend a lot of time here with the baby," Spencer says. "But they should know where their mother and father grew up. And fell in love, too."

"I one hundred percent agree," Toby says, turning onto the highway. "They'll have to know about the tragedies someday."

"Someday," Spencer agrees. "But not anytime soon."

It's two and a half hours until they reach New York City and the further they drive, the more the freedom begins to set in. They'll never be able to fully escape the town of their nightmares; their families will always reside there, their friends will always be there to remind them, and they had just as many good times as they did bad. Slanderous words had been spread about both of them and they were both accused of things they'd never done, and they'd been alone and afraid, but this, in turn, had led them to each other. Nervous teenagers in a hotel room, they'd kissed in the early morning sunlight, not realizing this very moment would jumpstart a whirlwind of a romance that would last the rest of their lives. Through thick and thin, through death threats and menacing messages and outside forces trying to tear them apart, they had somehow stuck even closer together and had come out the other side stronger than ever. Rosewood had dragged them through hell and back, but Rosewood had also brought them together.

Their eyes meet, then, and smiles, warm and slow, grow on both of their faces. They've come a long way, but still, the future is bright ahead.

* * *

Grace Marion Cavanaugh enters the world at 10:38 p.m. on January 8th, a full two days, sixteen hours and forty-seven minutes ago. Spencer knows these exact details, knows each and every moment right down to the second, because she's been awake for almost every single one. The hospital had asked if the new parents wanted them to take her back to the nursery the first night they were there, but Spencer and Toby had declined, because despite the exhaustion they were both facing, they were already obsessively in love with their daughter and didn't want to be apart from her. The next day, they'd had visitor after visitor, family and friends, and by the night, Toby was definitely seeing double and Spencer was forgetting words here and there and slurring her speech from exhaustion. At this point, the hospital had insisted, and Grace was whisked away to sleep in the nursery while her parents finally got their coveted rest. It hadn't lasted; she'd needed to be fed not a few hours later and they'd kept her into the morning.

They were released from the hospital at noon and had, once again, entertained visitors all afternoon. Spencer's pretty sure she's never been this tired, but even still, she's not sure she completely feels it. She's also on this amazing high that could have only come from bringing new life into the world and when she glances at the look on Toby's face, she knows he's feeling the very same thing. They've laid her down on a receiving blanket right in the middle of their bed, still dressed in her homecoming outfit and a tiny knit hat to keep her extremities warm in the cold New York air, and are perched on the foot of the bed, just watching in awe as she wriggles and squirms in front of them. This beautiful little girl, this tiny little human that is half her and half Toby, this precious life that they'd created has completely brought her to her knees.

"Look at this little munchkin," Spencer breaks the silence a moment later when she can no longer control herself. "I can't believe she's finally here. I can't believe… I can't believe she's ours."

"She's perfect," Toby agrees. "She's absolutely perfect. I know we thought we weren't ready, but-"

"Toby, I'm still not sure we're ready," She replies. "But when are people ever ready?"

"When they have homes and steady paychecks and aren't still in school and don't live in a tiny apartment in New York City." He grins and she smirks.

"Okay, fair enough," She sighs. "But I'm glad she's here. I'm glad this happened when it did."

"So am I," Toby agrees. "I never thought I'd ever believe in love at first sight but… God, look at her. She's so beautiful."

"Look at those tiny fingers," Spencer coos. "And her little nose."

"And her perfect little toes," Toby agrees. "Those tiny lips."

"She has your eyes," Spencer says dreamily. "I was hoping she'd have your eyes."

"When I look at her, it's like… Nothing else matters, you know?" He wonders and she nods, instantly knowing what he means. "It's all about her. We need to do everything we can to make sure she has the best life she can have."

"We will. I won't accept anything less," Spencer says. "We are going to work so incredibly hard and move out of the city the second I get my degree."

"I'll build us a house somewhere safe and with good schools," Toby promises. "You can decorate it any way you'd like."

"We're going to love her so much," Spencer adds. "And support her no matter what she feels, thinks or wants to do."

"Of course we will. And we already love her so much," Toby replies and she has to give him that one. "And with any other future children along the way, we'll-"

"Whoa," Spencer stops him. "No one said anything about future kids."

Toby chuckles. "Are we one and done?"

"I don't know," She shrugs. "We just- _just_ \- had Grace. I wasn't thinking about any future children. I want to enjoy the one we have."

"Okay, but hypothetically speaking… We _could_ have future kids."

"Siblings? Yeah, and when have siblings ever worked out for you and I?"

"Our kids would be different."

"Toby, if you want to push the next kid out of your vagina, be my guest," Spencer tells him and he laughs heartily. "I'm not interested in having any more kids."

Grace squirms a little more and then begins to fuss. Toby scoops her into his arms and says, "It's okay, monkey. You're alright. You're safe. Daddy will always be here to protect you. Always."

"Ooh, I better watch out," Spencer teases, bending forward to kiss Grace right in the middle of her tiny forehead. "There's a new lady in Toby Cavanaugh's life."

"Ah, come on," Toby shakes his head. "You know you're my number one. Always."

She snuggles into him as his free arm comes around her and they admire their daughter together. Grace inhales a tiny breath and yawns and, if possible, from this small action, her parents fall even more in love.

* * *

Toby's pretty sure Spencer hasn't let the baby leave her arms all day. It doesn't take a detective to figure out why.

He finds her, now, in their tiny bedroom, sitting upon the bed with Grace fast asleep in her arms, staring off into space. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She either doesn't hear him or wishes to keep her thoughts to herself; he's assuming the latter. Climbing into bed beside her, he nods towards the infant and says, "She looks pretty cozy but wouldn't it be nice if there were an invention or something where babies could sleep? Somewhere soft and warm; a crib, perhaps, or maybe even a bassinet?"

Spencer snaps from her reverie and shoots him a look. "She's fine where she is."

"I didn't say she wasn't," Toby tells her. "But it's okay to put her down, you know. She'll be alright."

Spencer sighs and reluctantly tucks the baby into the bassinet at her bedside. "Do I _need_ my doctorate?"

"Not really." Toby says. "Only if you want to become a doctor."

She purses her lips before asking. "Do I _want_ to become a doctor?"

"Spence," He asks. "What's this really about?"

"I'm seriously rethinking my entire life plan, right now," Spencer says. "I'm reconsidering how much I want to get this degree."

"Because you're not ready to go back to school tomorrow," Toby correctly guesses. "And more importantly, not ready to leave Grace behind at daycare."

"What if something happens?" She wonders. "You read about corrupt daycares all the time, you know? The employees beating children or forgetting about them or abusing them… Babies die in daycare, Toby. I can't… I can't just willingly leave my daughter there. She's so tiny; she's defenseless. She can't tell me if something bad is happening and she can't ask for help. I've been thinking about this all day and I just… I can't let anything happen to her."

Toby nods, slinging an arm around her shoulder and bringing her body into his. "I can understand that."

Quietly, she admits, "I'm just not ready to let her go yet. I'm afraid of what'll happen when I'm not there."

"That's a perfectly valid reason to be afraid," Toby assures her. "I'm not going to lie to you, Spence, it freaks me out too. But this daycare is run through the YMCA; it's not a budget childcare facility run out of someone's basement. We researched and people had nothing but good things to say about it _and_ we visited and really liked it, remember? It's still going to be hard, I know; there's definitely going to be an adjustment period. But if we want that great big beautiful life that we promised Grace, this is the first step in getting there."

"It's going to be so hard." Spencer sighs and then lifts her head a bit to meet his eyes. "Will you come with me tomorrow? To drop her off? It'll be easier if you're there with me."

"Of course I will," Toby agrees. "I was already planning on it."

"It sucks. We'd _just_ gotten into a routine," Spencer says. "I'd get some papers and classwork done while she took her morning nap and then I'd feed her and we'd play and sometimes take a walk. And I'd usually try and take a nap while she took her afternoon nap, but I sometimes would forego that to get some housework done. Oh, and we'd always send you an 'I woke up like this' selfie, afterwards."

Toby chuckles. "I _am_ going to miss my 'I woke up like this' selfies. My girls are the cutest."

She swats at him lazily. "God, if I'm this much of a wreck now, I can't imagine what I'll be like when she starts real school. Or college. Or gets married and leaves me for good."

"Hey, she's six weeks old," Toby shakes his head. "All of those things are lifetimes away."

"Well, if time moves as fast then as it did in these past six weeks," Spencer says. "I better prepare myself now."

"It is _kind of_ a good thing, though," Toby then says. "We have to learn to loosen the reigns a little. Let other people take care of Grace. We can't be attached to her forever."

"Speak for yourself," Spencer disagrees. "I want to raise her. I don't want anyone else to do it."

"No, obviously I want to raise her, too. That's not what I meant." Toby says. "But if we're afraid to let someone else watch her, then we can kiss date nights and anniversary trips and any other childless activities goodbye, because we'll never be able to get a babysitter. And that's not healthy, for her or for us. She needs interaction with other people too, not just her parents."

"I know, I know. It's true." Spencer replies. "We do have to learn to let go just a little. But only a little."

"Oh God, yeah, only a little," Toby nods his agreement. "Believe me, daycare's not going to become a regular thing. She'll only be there when she absolutely has to be and when we have literally no other option."

"Exactly," Spencer says. "I refuse to have a child who calls their teacher 'mommy' because they don't know the difference."

They settle further into bed and Toby asks, "So are you okay now? Are you going to drop her off with minimal tears and go to class with your head held high?"

"Can't guarantee that, but I'm going to try at least and that's got to count for something," Spencer says. "I'll probably call her teacher in between all my classes just for updates and to make sure she's alright. I'll be _that_ annoying mom."

"Nah, I'm sure they're used to that with first-timers," Toby tells her. "It'll be alright. _We'll_ be alright; all three of us."

Spencer sighs. "I sure hope so."

* * *

It's late July and the day burns as hot as a furnace. Spencer's been so busy and working so incredibly hard and in an effort to get their energetic, vivacious toddler out of the house for the afternoon, Toby decides to take Grace to the public swimming pool. She loves outdoor activities of any kid and she buzzes excitedly the whole way there. He gets her changed and straps her into a life vest the pool provides and carefully steps into the pool, relief from the day's hellish temperatures already flooding through him the moment the water meets his skin. Once in the water, he reaches for Grace and with a mischievous, daring grin, she leaps from the side of the pool into his arms. From there, they spend a wonderful hour splashing about, swimming from one end of the shallow end to the other, tossing toys back and forth and just generally enjoying the cool waters on a miserably hot day. Toby's feeling pretty confident about the whole thing; he'd managed to get her there, changed and in the water unscathed and then, when his fingers are pruned and his stomach growls for lunch, he decides it's time to go and his daughter doesn't even disagree. He's pretty sure he's going to win father of the year.

On the walk home from the pool, however, he loses his title for sure.

At two-and-a-half, Grace is in the 'do it myself' stage and so when he'd wrapped her towel around her tiny body and gone to lift her into his arms, she'd scurried away from him and insisted she was going to walk home by herself, like a big girl. He doesn't disagree, but he keeps one of her tiny hands clasped in his the whole way while her other hand holds tight to the towel that is looped around her body. It begins to drag on the sidewalk on more than one occasion and, each time, they stop and Toby tucks it more firmly around her. It's a tireless process, but somehow, they make it home alright. Again, he goes to carry her up the front steps and again, she disagrees, and this ends up being their downfall. The towel has once again slipped from around her body and she steps on the tail end of it, causing her to face plant onto the front steps before losing her balance and falling down the porch steps, onto the sidewalk.

The first thing Toby sees is the blood; it's _everywhere_ and he curses himself for not being quick enough to catch her before she'd fallen. There's a sound coming out of his daughter that he's never heard before; she's wailing, shrieking beyond recognition, and Toby is honestly paralyzed in his spot, unsure of what to do. There's blood on the steps, on the towel, on the sidewalk and pouring from Grace's mouth and nose, mixing with the salty tears streaming from her eyes. Finally, adrenaline mixes with panic and Toby snaps into action, scooping her into his arms and stepping gingerly over the bloody mess outside; it looks, honestly, like someone had been murdered on their front porch, but he'll deal with that later. Now, his attention must be on his little girl. He rushes into the house, Grace continuing to scream her cries, and does what he always does when he has no idea what to do.

" _Spencer!_ "

Luckily for him, she's already hastily approaching; likely, she'd heard Grace's screams from outside. "What's going on? What happened? Why is she covered in blood? What _happened?_ "

"We had an accident. We…" Toby exhales, trying to calm his furiously beating heart. "We were walking home and she didn't want me to carry her and she tripped on her towel coming up the stairs and…"

Spencer's turned away, ducking into the linen closet and then into the bathroom. She returns with an ice-cold washcloth, wet and ready for healing. "Jesus Christ. She looks like Freddy Krueger."

She begins to wipe some of the blood away, tenderly mending her screeching child, and croons to her, softly, "I know, Gracie, I know. It's okay. It's going to be okay. You're alright."

Toby's shaking. His heart's in his throat and he's holding Grace so tightly he's not sure he'll ever be able to let go. It's strange, honestly, because usually he's the calm one and Spencer's the one in a frenzy. He can't say he enjoys the other side. After a beat, Spencer leans a bit closer and kisses Grace's bruised cheek, saying, "I think we're going to have to go to the hospital. She's bitten through her lip there, you see? I'm afraid that might need stitches."

Toby nods wordlessly and somehow- he doesn't know, really- they end up in the emergency room. Spencer's pressing an ice pack to the bridge of Grace's nose and Toby has the toddler curled up against his chest, the front of his shirt becoming soaked through with what he assumes is her tears, but later realizes it's her blood. As usual in the emergency room, they spend hours just sitting in triage before a doctor even looks their way and when one does, he gives them good news. Grace's nose isn't broken and the swelling and bruising on her cheeks and chin will go down and away eventually. She does, unfortunately, need four stitches across her bottom lip, which is one of the hardest things they've ever had to witness and endure, and by the end of their trip, they're feeling so worn out and exhausted by this whole experience, they buy Grace an ice cream cone for dinner and tuck her into bed early.

He's still sitting in his blood-soaked shirt when Spencer finds him an hour later. "I hosed off the front porch and sidewalk so it no longer looks like a crime scene. I don't think we'd pass a luminol test, but at least its something."

The corners of his mouth twitch but still, he remains silent. She frowns now and comes to sit beside him, nudging his side. "Babe, you haven't said a single word since before we left for the hospital. What's up? I know it was scary, but all's well that ends well, right?"

Toby sighs and very quietly, replies, "It's my fault."

Spencer's entire face falls. "What? No, it's not."

"I hurt her. I'm the reason she got hurt," Toby shakes his head. "All because I agreed to her little fit of independence. I should've just… I didn't catch her in time and… This whole thing is my fault."

Spencer reaches for his hand, clasping it in both of hers. "Toby…"

"I love her so much," He continues. "I promised I'd always protect her; I'd never let _anything_ happen to her and then… It's my fault she got hurt."

"No, it isn't," Spencer insists. "You're not perfect, Toby. You're not always going to catch her when she falls."

"But I'm her father," Toby sighs. "I'm supposed to."

"You can't be there for every little thing. You just can't," Spencer says. "That's how she becomes her own person. And you gave into her bout of independence and that's a good thing. That's what you're supposed to do."

"Even now?" Toby asks. "Even when this is the result?"

"Look, what happened today was _awful_. I'm not disputing that," Spencer shakes her head. "When you brought her in the house today and I saw… I saw all the blood, I was terrified. I mean, I'd never _seen_ that much blood and I'd never heard her scream like that. I almost had a heart attack."

Toby points out, "But you didn't. You were calm as anything."

"One of us had to be. You were _freaking_ out." Spencer says. "And I didn't want to scare her any more than she already was. But believe me, on the inside, I was a fucking mess."

Toby nods but says, "I still feel like this was my fault, somehow."

"Well, it wasn't," Spencer assures him. "I don't blame you and I know Grace doesn't, either. It's just one of those things, Toby. I mean, it's awful and she's going to be in pain for a little bit, but she's going to be okay. Kids get banged up all the time. We can't protect them from everything."

"I know you're right," Toby says. "I _know_ you are. But I still can't help but feel like… Like I failed her, somehow."

"Oh no, Toby, you didn't," Spencer's immediately shaking her head. "I promise you didn't. It was an accident. Just a terrible, stupid accident and it didn't change anything. You're still the best, most amazing father to Grace that I could ever ask for and she still loves you just as much as she did before this happened. And so do I. You know I do."

Toby nods. "I know."

"It's okay to feel bad. I'm not trying to talk you out of that. I'm sure I'd be beating myself up just as much if it had been me," Spencer says and, oddly, this is what finally puts a smile on his face. "I just want you to know that no one blames you, so you don't have to blame yourself. Accidents happen and, honestly, I doubt this will be the last."

"Hopefully she won't need an ER visit or stitches, next time." Toby says and Spencer nods her agreement.

"Yeah, hopefully. It's always best to avoid those." She presses a kiss to his cheek then and asks, "Are you okay?"

"I guess so," He leans in closer to capture her lips instead. "I just don't like fucking up. Parenting isn't a job you can fuck up at, you know?"

"Are you kidding?" She disagrees. "This is a job you _have_ to fuck up at, or you're never going to get any better. In fact, we're _going_ to fuck up. Again and again, Toby, because there's no such thing as the perfect parent."

"Wow," Toby says. "If you've accepted that and I haven't, there's something seriously wrong with this picture."

She chuckles and says, "It wasn't easy for me, trust me."

* * *

Their tiny little peanut is sound asleep in her bassinet, softly snoring, while her older sister reads "Goodnight Moon" from her parents' bedside. It's a sight that would melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Do you remember what you told me after Grace was born?" Toby then asks, snapping Spencer out of her comfortable reverie. "Regarding the two of us having more children?"

"That I didn't want anymore," Spencer smirks. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you regret it?" He then wonders. "Do you regret saying that?"

"Kind of," She nods. "I don't want Lilly to think, for even a second, that she was unwanted."

"She won't ever think that," Toby assures her. "She knows."

"Good," Spencer smiles. "Because I've loved this little princess from the moment I knew she existed. And I'm so glad she's here with us. I'm so glad we have two preciously perfect little girls, now."

"I have never been more outnumbered in my life," Toby tells her and she chuckles. "But it's alright. I love my girls."

The baby sneezes then and Grace exclaims, "Bless you!" before mopping up her tiny nose with the burp cloth on the bedside table and continuing her story. Spencer can feel Toby's eyes on her and she asks, "What?"

"Nothing," He insists. "You look happy."

"I am happy," Spencer replies. "Aren't you happy?"

"I always am when I'm with you," Toby says and she beams, blushing. "I was just thinking about that conversation and wondering what changed your mind."

"About having more kids?" She asks and when he nods, she sighs. "I don't know. It was a bunch of things. I was so sure we'd be one and done; I mean, look at our pasts with siblings, right? Look at what we both went through."

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "I definitely understand."

"But part of it was Grace," Spencer says. "I didn't want her to grow up lonely just because I was being selfish. I saw the way she looked at her friends' siblings and all the questions she always had about babies… Not to mention I missed having one. I missed how tiny she used to be and her cute little baby laugh and that squeal she'd always do whenever we picked her up out of the crib. I missed the chubby little cheeks and tiny fingers and toes and that great baby smell. I missed the cuddles."

"There's nothing better than baby cuddles," He agrees and she grins.

"Part of it was me," She continues. "I would see babies in the grocery store or the bank or even at work, sometimes, and my uterus would skip a beat, or something. I just felt this ache, this longing, for one. And I began thinking about us and about Grace and about how we're nothing like my family or yours and we'd never let it get to that point. And even though it scared me to even think about having two little girls, I was also kind of sure that if we did, they'd never turn out like Melissa and me. I would never let that happen. But I don't think I even have to worry about that because Grace already loves Lilly in a way that I can't even describe. And even though I was kind of worried that I wouldn't be able to love another child like I already love my firstborn, I am so, so glad to say that little Lilly has completely proven me wrong."

"I knew she would," Toby grins. "You care more and love harder than anyone that I know."

"And, finally, part of it was you," Spencer finishes. "Because whether you've realized it or not, Toby, you were born to be a father. You were. I've watched you with Grace for six years and you just… It's so effortless. You go along with her games and make her laugh uncontrollably and do separate voices for each character when you're reading her bedtime stories and you can always make her feel better, always, when she's sick or sad. I don't even know how you do it. It's just second nature, I guess. But I'd see you with her and it just… It just resonated with me. I always thought, _that man deserves ten children_. And that's literally never going to happen so don't get any ideas."

He chuckles despite the sentiment. "Two is good, too."

Grinning, she adds, "I'm not saying it, this time. I'm not opposed to more."

His eyes widen. "You aren't?"

"No," Spencer says. "Not anytime soon or anything. This NICU thing was traumatic."

"Yeah, it was," Toby agrees. "Let's enjoy our time as a family of four for a while. Just the two of us and our two little girls."

"Goodnight stars, goodnight air," Grace finishes. "Goodnight noises everywhere."

Miraculously, Lilly is sound asleep and, giddily, Grace hops closer onto the bed, into her father's awaiting arms. "Lilly's asleep now! I did that! Did you see?"

"I did!" Toby praises her efforts. "Good job, Gracie!"

"See, babe?" Spencer grins. "You're such a great big sister already."

"I can't wait 'til she's big enough to play with me," Grace decides. "I'm going to teach her _everything_. I hope she's not a baby forever."

"Aw, why not?" Spencer disagrees. "I wished for you to stay a baby forever and you didn't listen to me."

Grace giggles and crawls into her mother's lap instead. "But Mommy, if I was still a baby, then you'd have two of them and that would be a lot of work. And no one would help you! It would just be you and Daddy!"

"That's true," Spencer considers, running her fingers through her daughter's wild hair. "I would miss my best helper; my favorite six-year-old in the whole world."

Grace asks, "What happens when I turn seven? Then what?"

"Then you'll be my favorite _seven_ -year-old in the whole world."

She grins. "See? So I _have_ to grow up."

"Alright," Spencer concedes. "Just not so fast, okay?"

She nods her agreement. "Deal."

"Okay monkey, ready for bed?" Toby then asks. "Is it story time for Gracie now?"

"Yes," She says, hugging and kissing her mother before hopping off the bed. "One more kiss goodnight for the baby."

Peering over the side of the bassinet, Grace presses a feather light kiss on Lilly's tiny forehead before whispering, "Goodnight, Lilly! Sweet dreams! I love you!"

She begins to follow her father towards her bedroom before seeming to remember something. "Wait! I forgot to tell her a secret."

"A secret?" Spencer asks. "You two already have a secret?"

"Sisters _always_ have secrets," Grace says, stepping closer to the bassinet to murmur, "I can't wait until you grow up so we can play. Not _too_ fast though; we promised Mommy."

From there, she skips forward and slips her hand into her father's, asking, "Can we read Rapunzel tonight?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Why don't you go get it ready for me?" Toby suggests, squeezing her hand as she nods and scurries off towards her bedroom. Turning back towards his wife, he says, "If you ever had any doubt about whether these two were going to love each other…"

"No, that's dead and buried. Completely gone," Spencer assures him. "Our family, thank goodness, is nothing like mine."

"Or mine," Toby agrees. "Thankfully."

"And our girls already love each other like sisters are supposed to," Spencer grins. "Which is, honestly, all I could ever ask for."

* * *

This is the day she's been dreading since the moment this child left the womb.

They'd taken her out to dinner the night before, just the three of them, while their oldest and youngest dined at home with their aunt and uncle, and Lilly had chosen a Chinese restaurant in the middle of town. She'd been quiet the entire meal and had eaten nothing but a bowl of edamame and the ice cream sundae they'd ordered her for dessert. Somehow, she'd slept soundly all night even though neither of her parents had; well, Spencer supposes Toby had fallen asleep eventually, but she knows she never had. Grace starts middle school today and this thought completely baffles and excites her, because Grace has always adjusted well to new surroundings and she absolutely loves school. Henry doesn't start preschool until next week, so he's still enjoying his extended summer vacation. Lilly, on the other hand, is beginning kindergarten, and everyone, save for Henry, who doesn't quite understand, is worried for her.

She's quiet all throughout breakfast, dresses in the first day outfit she'd chosen and laid out the night before with impeccable care, and then tucks her school supplies into her backpack and slips it over her shoulders. Grace is already long gone, her own nerves over leaving her little sister behind quenched expertly by her father, and therefore, only the four of them remain. Spencer smiles encouragingly at her little girl and receives only a small smile in response. Hand in hand, they walk to the end of the driveway and then to the end of the street, where the bus would pick up all the elementary students for the brand new year. When they approach, dozens of kids are tittering on excitedly about the day ahead and, in response, Spencer clutches Lilly's hand even tighter. She's always been painfully, painfully shy and doesn't always know the best way to communicate what she needs, but she's exceptionally bright and Spencer knows she'll love school as long as she's able to give it a chance.

"Mommy," Lilly then says, her voice small. "It's only a couple hours, right?"

She always wonders what it is about this child that makes her heart ache and she always remembers whenever Lilly says something like this. "Yes, baby. Just a couple of hours and then you'll be right back on the bus on the way home to us. You'll go in and make some new friends and listen to your teacher and learn a lot and play on that brand new playground. And then you'll come home and I'll be waiting right here for you. Daddy too."

"And," Lilly adds, still trying to make herself feel better. "And my teacher's nice?"

"Of course she is," Spencer nods. "Remember when we met her a few weeks ago? She was super nice. And she was very excited to have you in her class."

Lilly nods slowly and then asks, "Can I just go back to preschool?"

"Honey, you're much too smart for preschool now," Toby adds, kneeling beside his wife, catching their daughter's eyes. "You've got to move forward, not back."

Suddenly, the big yellow school bus rounds the corner, chugs forward and comes to a stop, its doors opening as children reach to say their final goodbyes to their parents and charge up the steps. There's panic and terror in Lilly's eyes, now, but Henry doesn't read any of this. He leaps from his father's arms to give his older sister a hug. "Bye bye Lilly! Have fun at school!"

"Bye Henry," She says softly and then turns to her mother, frantic. "I don't want to go, Mommy."

"Lilly, you can do this. I know you can," Spencer tells her. "I know you're nervous and that's okay. That's totally normal. But it's going to be okay. Really, it is."

Lilly bites her lip and tries to nod, but her eyes fill with tears instead. Spencer frowns and pulls her into an embrace. "Hey, it's okay. Don't cry, baby. You promised me no tears, remember?"

She feels a few drop onto her shirt as her daughter cries, "I'm sorry."

"You know what? It's okay," Spencer says, giving her an extra squeeze before pulling back to look her in the eye. "It's okay to be scared. But you're going to have a great day. I love you and Daddy loves you and Grace and Henry love you, too. We're all rooting for you here and we know you can do this. Okay?"

"Okay," She swallows hard and swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Are you ready?"

She nods after the slightest hesitation and Toby asks, "Do you want me to walk you to the bus?"

A much more confident nod follows the previous one and Toby takes her hand, strolling towards the school bus. He pulls her into a hug and tells her, "You're such a big girl, Lilly. I love you so much and I'm so proud of you. You're going to make all kinds of new friends and have a great day. And then you'll come home and I'll be here and you can tell me all about it. Okay?"

"Okay," Lilly replies, her voice only wavering slightly. "I love you Daddy."

"I love you too, sunshine," He repeats and kisses her cheek. "Go. It's okay. Go."

And she does. She sniffles, inhales a deep breath and climbs up the steps, tentatively taking the very front seat and waving to her parents through the window. All three of them, Henry included, wave back. Spencer can feel tears burning at the backs of her eyes and she blinks rapidly to try and will them away. "Damn it. I didn't think this was going to be so hard."

When she glances at her husband, he's got tears in his eyes, too. "Yeah. I don't think any of us did."

"Well…" Spencer inhales a deep breath. "We can't shelter her from everything."

Toby nods but says, "You're going to have to keep reminding me."

* * *

"Mommy, I can't sleep!"

Toby frowns and his wife exhales heavily. "I just- _just_ \- laid down."

"I'll get him," Toby sighs. "Remember when he was an infant and never slept?"

"Remember how that time is also now?" Spencer groans. "You'd think that now, at three years old, he'd sleep through the night, but no, no, no! Why make life easy for us?"

Toby chuckles and peels back the covers. "I got it this time."

He steps out of bed and pads across the floor, ignoring the digital clock at his bedside that screams _3:24 a.m._ The entire house is quiet and he imagines his girls are sound asleep, lost in dreamland and completely oblivious to the fact that their brother is running their parents ragged. He pushes the door open to his son's room and frowns at the sight of Henry, pulling a toy train around a track on his bedroom floor. At the sight of his father, he grins and says, "Hi Daddy. Do you want to be the green one or the red one?"

"Henry, I want to be asleep," Toby tells him. "It is not playtime. It's way past time for bed."

"I can't sleep," He frowns. "My bed is too hot."

"Turn on your fan."

"Then I'm really cold."

"Put on another blanket."

"But _Daddy_!"

"Henry, enough," Toby shakes his head, scooping his son into his arms and tucking him back into bed. "Close your eyes. Think happy thoughts. Let yourself sleep. Your body needs rest."

"My body needs to play!" Henry disagrees and sits up again as Toby heads for the door.

"Lay down," He commands and Henry obliges, crossing his arms over the blankets and pouting. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too," He murmurs irritably and, smirking, Toby closes the door behind him.

When he returns to their bedroom, Spencer asks, "Coloring by flashlight?"

"No, playing with his trains," Toby sighs. "Do you think there's something wrong? I mean, this is _every_ night. Why doesn't he sleep?"

"Because he's a stubborn pain in the ass," Spencer replies. "I mean I love him to death, don't get me wrong, but like… Sleep."

"Yeah, sleep. Haven't gotten a full night's sleep since he was born," Toby frowns. "Remember when we thought we had this parenting thing in the bag?"

"Why were we so cocky?" Spencer groans. "And how ridiculous are we going to look asking for help getting our preschooler to sleep? Everyone else seeking help will be new parents with colicky infants and we're just…"

"We don't need help, I just think… I don't know," Toby finishes lamely. "Our girls were just easier."

"Boys are tougher," Spencer points out. "Everyone says."

" _Daddy!_ "

"Oh my god, kill me," Spencer replies and Toby chuckles. "Please just kill me. I can't survive without sleep."

"Just drink your typical sixteen gallons of coffee and you'll be fine," Toby teases. "Go get him. It's your turn."

"No," She moans, turning into her pillow, her next words muffled. "He called for you."

"He called for you last time and I went!" Toby exclaims. "No getting around this, Spence."

"What if we just ignore him?" Spencer asks. "That sounds awful, I know it does, but… Maybe he'll just go to sleep if we don't indulge his every whim."

"You know what'll happen if we do," Toby disagrees. "He'll end up in bed with us."

"Alright, fine, I give up," She says and, yawning, climbs out of bed. "I'm not coming back until this kid is asleep. Seriously. If I have to read his entire library or sing an entire musical or rock him like a baby, this child is going the fuck to sleep."

Toby laughs and calls to her retreating form, "I believe in you. Good luck!"

It appears she's serious, for she doesn't return for quite some time and he somehow manages to fall asleep in that time. He jolts awake a little after eight, feeling groggy and incredibly guilty for getting rest when he's sure Spencer hasn't, and then, curiously, makes his way to Henry's room, because he's still the sole occupant of their bed even now, hours later.

Pushing open the door to Henry's bedroom, his heart skips a beat at the sight before him. His son is curled up against his mother, his wife has both of her arms tucked protectively around him, and they're both fast asleep in his tiny bed, looking more at peace than Toby has ever seen them.

Okay, so maybe they don't have this parenting thing in the bag. But Toby doesn't think they totally suck at it, either.

* * *

"Mom, you're kind of suffocating me."

Spencer loosens her grip on her son, but only slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to turn you into a pancake, I promise."

"I can't breathe," Henry squeaks and then shrugs out of her embrace. "It's two weeks, Mom. It's nothing."

"Easy for you to say," Spencer shakes her head. "You're going to be off having fun. I'm going to be home worried sick."

Henry frowns and adjusts his duffle bag more firmly on his shoulder. "Don't be worried."

"You can tell her that all you want, Hen, but you know she'll worry anyway," Grace tells the eight-year-old, who cheers up just a bit.

"That's true."

"Hey, it's my job," Spencer says and then asks him, "Do you want us to come with you to find your cabin? Help you make your bed or set up your things?"

"No, that's okay," Henry is quick to disagree and, throwing a longing glance over his shoulder, he adds, "I can actually say goodbye right here."

"Oh," Spencer replies, crestfallen. "Okay."

"Bye Henry," Lilly goes first, pulling her brother in for a hug. "You're going to have so much fun. Take a lot of pictures for me, okay? I put an extra camera in your bag- the disposable kind so it's okay if you drop it."

"Hey," Henry grins. "How did you know I might drop it?"

"You're kind of clumsy," Lilly giggles. "But it's okay."

Grace is next and she ruffles his hair in the way she knows he hates. "See you in two weeks, weirdo."

"Bye Grace," Henry replies. "Enjoy the peace and quiet while I'm gone."

"You bet I will," Grace grins. "And you enjoy the crickets and bug juice and poison ivy."

"I will," He laughs. "It's gonna be _so_ fun!"

She chuckles too and they embrace quickly before he moves towards his parents. "Thank you for letting me come to camp even though you didn't want me to go."

"It's not that we didn't want you to go, Hen." Toby corrects. "You're going to have a great time here and I know you'll make a ton of new friends and probably cause some mischief because that's what you do best. It's just that you're still young and this camp's in the woods, two hours away from us, and that's…"

"It just worries us, that's all," Spencer finishes. "But I know it'll be good for you and I know it's what you've wanted for a while, so… Go on an adventure. Have a great time. But please be careful and listen to your counselors and do what you're told to do, okay?"

"I will," Henry nods. "I promise."

He reaches forward to hug Toby first, saying, "Bye Dad."

"I'll see you soon, Hen." Toby hugs back. "I love you. Have an awesome time for me, okay?"

"Okay," He replies automatically and then grins reassuringly at his mother. "It's okay. You can crush my lungs again."

Chuckling, Spencer pulls him back into a tight embrace, kissing his cheek and telling him, "I love you so much and I'm going to miss you like crazy. I know you'll be having too much fun to even think about me, but just humor me, okay?"

"That's not true," He says, his little head shaking. "I'm going to miss you too, Mom."

Tears fill her eyes but she shakes her head, willing them away. Pressing an additional kiss to his cheek, she pulls away to smile brightly at him. "Alright. Get out of here. Go have fun."

He beams at all four of them before picking up his duffle bag, waving one last time and racing off to find his cabin and counselor. The rest of the family watches him go, makes sure he's safe and accounted for, and then heads back to their car to make the journey home. Lilly's the first to comment, saying, "He's so much braver than I am. I would _never_ want to come to sleep away camp and be away from home for two whole weeks."

"I would do it if my friends were doing it too," Grace tells her. "But to come here by myself? No thank you."

Toby wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders and asks, "You okay?"

She nods unconvincingly. "Yeah. I guess I better used to this, huh? Them leaving me? Grace starts college in two years, Lilly won't be long after and then Henry…"

"Hey, it's just summer camp," Toby shrugs. "Worse comes to worst, we can fake an emergency and bring him home early."

Spencer chuckles. "I'm not that selfish."

Toby grins. "You're not selfish at all."

Grace and Lilly talk the entire way home. Spencer sighs and just a few miles from home, she says, "At least he's becoming his own person."

"Henry?" Toby asks and she nods. "Yeah, that he is. A great one. Not that I expected anything less."

"I guess we're doing okay then."

"We're doing more than okay," Toby tells her. "And it's probably a good thing that we're letting him explore different aspects of his personality. Even though our girls would never do this in a million years…"

"He's not like them," Spencer says. "And that's good, too. I love how different they all are. I'm glad we let go of the idea that parents can control what their kids like and don't like."

"Well of course we did," Toby agrees. "We're not _our_ parents."

Spencer chuckles. "You can say that again."

* * *

"Today's the day," Toby announces confidently, ignoring the look of disbelief on his wife's face. "I can feel it."

Spencer smirks and adds linguini to the pot of boiling water on the stove. "Whatever you say, babe."

"Dad, make like Elsa and let it go," Lilly replies from the kitchen table, where she's placing silverware beside their plates and glasses.

Toby laughs and replies, "I resent your _Frozen_ reference and I thought you were on my side, here?"

"No! That thing almost killed you and Mom a couple of years ago," The fourteen-year-old shakes her head. "The story of how you got it was nice and all but… It's dead. It's time to say goodbye."

Toby exhales and turns to his wife, teasing, "What have you been telling her?"

Spencer chuckles. "Absolutely nothing. You're the only one still attached to that thing. It's a death trap and hasn't run in _years_."

" _That thing_ is one of the greatest things you've ever given me-"

"The three kids weren't enough for you?"

" _After_ them, obviously," Toby corrects himself. "But… It's the _truck_ , Spencer."

"Look, I adore how much you love that thing. I really do," Spencer tells him. "It means a lot to me that it means so much to you. But we got in a major car accident because of it a few years ago, it's unreliable as _hell_ , and it's older than all three of us in this room."

Toby heaves a sigh. "I refuse to give up on it. You still have the rocking chair and the Scrabble necklace, don't you?"

Her hands immediately flock to the piece of jewelry around her neck. "That's different. Neither the chair nor the necklace have ever tried to murder us."

"Yeah," Lilly agrees. "And those things are timeless. Trucks aren't, Dad. Sorry to say."

"Mom!" Henry calls, bounding down the stairs. "Will you proofread my essay?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees, bringing the sauce to a simmer and reaching for her son's rough draft. "You finally hashed that out, huh?"

"Ah, Henry," Toby greets his son. "You'll agree with me, right? That I can fix the truck?"

"Dad, that's a hopeless case," The twelve-year-old disagrees. "But that's beside the point. Do you think comparing Macbeth to Ophelia is too preachy?"

"I don't know if preachy's the word," Spencer smirks, beginning to read. "But let's see how you did it."

"Well, I can see I'm alone in this," Toby sighs and the others shoot him a pointed look. "It's fine. I'll prove you all wrong when I get it to run again."

He turns towards the garage and Henry asks, "Why does he love that thing so much anyway?"

"You know the story," Lilly says. "Mom pawned Aunt Melissa's ring to buy it and it was the first time they said 'I love you'. It was so romantic."

"Isn't that kind of like stealing?" Henry asks. "It wasn't your ring and it was really expensive. Couldn't you go to jail for that?"

"It _is_ stealing and yes, it's probably a felony," Spencer says. "Why? Are you going to turn me in?"

"No," Henry chuckles. "I don't want to have to visit you in prison."

"Did you ever tell Aunt Melissa?" Lilly then wonders, reaching into the refrigerator for butter for their Italian bread.

"I did not so please don't ever mention it," Spencer replies. "It's been at least three lifetimes and I'm pretty sure she'd still murder me on the spot if she knew."

"That's pretty stupid for her to still hold a grudge after all these years," Henry says. "She sounds like some of the girls in my school."

"It _is_ kind of immature," Lilly agrees. "Aren't adults supposed to be the mature ones?"

Spencer smirks. "Supposed to be. That's not always the case."

She continues to read through Henry's essay, every so often stirring the pasta sauce so it doesn't burn, as Henry waits expectantly and Lilly adjusts the table setting so that it rests perfectly. After a while, Henry sniffs the air and pulls a face, asking, "Mom, what's burning?"

"Nothing," Spencer shakes her head. "I'm boiling pasta, Henry. It's not complicated."

"No, I smell it too," Lilly then says, standing from her spot at the table. "Something definitely smells like smoke."

"Well, our dinner's perfectly fine, so if it's not that, then…" Spencer trails off and then her eyes widen. "Oh my god."

She turns on her heel at once and rushes to the door that leads to the garage, her children hot on her heels. Whisking it open, her eyes immediately widen upon the sight before her. Toby's coughing and sputtering, waving a greasy rag over the engine in that old tan Chevy truck, which has caught on fire. In a moment, the edge of the rag touches the flames and immediately engulfs; Toby drops it without hesitation and leaps out of the way of the inferno. He hasn't seemed to notice the rest of his family's presence, but Spencer shouts anyway, "What the _hell?_ "

"I'll get the fire extinguisher," Lilly hastily replies and races back into the house.

Henry's just after her, calling, "I'll get some water!"

"Toby," Spencer shrieks and finally, his head turns in her direction. "You're going to set the fucking house on fire!"

"I'm sorry! I don't know what happened!" He shouts back and reaches for the switch to open the garage door so they don't suffocate. "One minute, I was toying with the spark plug and the next…"

"Here!" Lilly returns and shoves the extinguisher into her father's awaiting arms.

The fire is out within moments, leaving behind only a cloud of thick smoke and a charred skeleton of a vehicle, destined never to run again. Henry returns, then, with the water and then frowns, "Oh. I missed the whole thing."

"Get back in the house, please," Spencer states, pushing them back through the doorway. "I don't want you breathing any of this in."

"The pasta's boiling over," Lilly says. "I'll go get it off the stove before we start _another_ fire."

Her brother follows suit and Spencer places the bucket of water he'd brought on the floor of the garage, watching as Toby puts the truck in neutral and backs it out of the garage and onto the driveway. She follows him outside, shivering in the chilly February air, and he doesn't look at her when he says, dejectedly, "I'll take it to the junkyard first thing tomorrow."

"I don't think you'll be able to even drive it," Spencer shakes her head. "You might have to call for a tow."

Toby sighs and nods, hopping up to sit in the bed of the truck, the only part still intact. "I'm sorry. About the fire, I mean."

Spencer joins him, pulling herself into the trunk and sitting beside him so they're touching at the knee. "Are you okay?"

"My hand's a little singed, but I didn't get burned too badly."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Toby sighs. "It's been with me forever. I guess I just thought… I thought I could always fix it. I thought it would run again. Just once more, you know? So you and I could take one last drive in it. But it couldn't even give me that."

Spencer frowns and she's honestly not quite sure she'd realized how much this truck had meant to him until now. "I'm sorry. I know I tease you all the time for loving this thing and for wanting to fix it up, but even I thought you would."

"No one ever believed in me, you know?" Toby then says. "No one ever thought I could make a living out of carpentry and my dad, most of all, tried to talk me out of it over and over again. Everyone always thought it wouldn't happen or that I shouldn't pursue it. But… you did. You believed in me. You supported me and showed me that it was okay to take a chance on something I loved to do. And this will always be a symbol of that. This truck… It was the first step towards me actually starting the life I wanted to lead. And you helped me get there. Of course, it's also a symbol of our relationship; of our love. Because I knew how I'd been feeling about you for quite a while, at that point, and I was pretty sure I knew how you felt, too, but this… This just proved it."

Spencer shakes her head, framing his face between her hands and telling him sincerely, "You don't need a truck for that."

They kiss lovingly for a few moments before she whispers, "You have to say goodbye. You have to let it go."

"I know," Toby exhales heavily. "I guess it's time."

"But before you do," Spencer asks, peering over her shoulder at the inside of the truck. "How damaged does the bench inside look?"

"Not too bad," Toby shrugs. "Why?"

"You up for one last truck make-out session?" She asks suggestively, her eyebrows rising. "It seems only fitting since that's how we christened it. We should send it away with such as well."

Toby grins and leaps off the truck, reaching for her hand. "You don't have to ask me twice."

* * *

It's Christmastime and Toby's on the way to New York to pick up Lilly from her first semester at college when he gets the call.

It comes from Spencer's work phone, which is strange because she _never_ calls from her work phone, and he's immediately on edge. Even more so when he answers and hears nothing but a strange silence on the other end for an extended period of time. "Spence? Are you alright? What's going on? You're starting to scare me."

"Toby…" She finally speaks, trailing off on the other end, and her voice is low and raw, tinged with sadness. "I'm not going to be here when you get home. I have… I have to go to Rosewood."

"Why? What's going on?" He asks and he wishes he could keep the anxiety and dread from his own voice. "Is everything okay?"

"M-my father collapsed at work," Spencer spits out a moment later and he can hear the tears she's fighting and his heart aches. "He was in court and… My mother doesn't know anything yet but I have to be there."

"Okay. Okay, I'm getting Lilly and hopefully I'll be home in time to pick Henry up from practice, but I'll text him and have him get a ride with someone else if I'm not," Toby nods. "Do you want me to come down there? Be with you?"

"I'm okay," She replies but her voice says otherwise. "I'll keep you updated."

"Okay," Toby finds himself repeating. "Keep me posted. I love you."

"Love you too." Spencer says and then the line cuts out.

Though she promises news, he doesn't hear from her again. He tells Lilly by accident; the college freshman already has _so_ much to tell her father, but of course, being the most intuitive, she glances at his face and knows immediately that something isn't right. Her face goes ashen and remains this way the entire drive home and, of course, this is how Henry finds out, too. Toby decides to bite the bullet and texts Grace next, a simple message to keep her grandfather in her thoughts and prayers because he's in the hospital and not doing well. She immediately calls her father and asks if she should change her flight- she's flying in tomorrow, but she can try to get one sooner- and he tells her it won't be necessary; he'd just wanted to make sure she was kept in the loop. Dinner is a tense one that evening, as they're all waiting for that moment, that one single phone call, from the missing member of their family who would hopefully bring good news.

It's long after midnight and both children are asleep when Toby's cell phone finally rings. "Hello?"

He can barely understand the words she's saying because she's crying so incredibly hard. "He's gone. My-my father's gone."

Honestly, he'd expected as much, but it isn't any easier to hear. "Honey, I'm so, so sorry."

"He had a heart attack. They couldn't revive him."

"I'll be there first thing tomorrow, okay?" Toby promises her. "All four of us. I'm getting Grace at the airport and then we'll be there."

It's the quietest, most solemn drive to Rosewood they've ever made. Grace has just returned from visiting a friend she'd made during her semester abroad, but even she doesn't have stories to share. Not today. Lilly's crying silently in the backseat, wiping a tear away every so often and Henry's leaning against the glass window, his face reading so much misery. They hadn't spent a lot of time with their grandparents growing up and it's something Toby now feels incredibly guilty for. They could've made more of an effort to come down here, to visit the elder Hastings', as a few weekends a year plus their annual Poconos trip was hardly enough. However, this didn't stop any of the children from loving Peter as much as grandchildren should love their grandfather and he knows his presence will be greatly missed among them.

There are cars surrounding the Hastings residence and Toby's honestly expected this. They pour out of the vehicle and let themselves into the home, not bothering to knock or ring the bell, and the first person they run into is Veronica. She looks like she hasn't slept in weeks and hasn't eaten either, for that matter, and Lilly is immediately in tears upon the sight of her. "Grandma…"

"Oh sweetheart, hi. How are you?" She folds her into an embrace and holds her other arm out for Grace and Henry, who do not hesitate. "My loves. I am so glad you're all here."

"Are you doing okay, Grandma?" Grace asks next. "I'm so sorry."

"About as well as I can," Veronica nods, her composure just as strong as ever. "It's certainly not what I expected and the timing couldn't have been worse. It won't be a very merry Christmas this year, will it?"

Henry shakes his head. "Do you need anything?"

"No, honey, just you being here is enough," Veronica tells him and when they shrink out of her embrace, she then smiles at the sight of her son-in-law. "Toby."

"Hi," He greets her too and offers her a heartfelt embrace. "I can't imagine what you're going through; what you're feeling."

"No, I imagine you probably could," Veronica disagrees. "You of the all people here would probably understand."

Suddenly, he has flashbacks of his father, growing colder and more distant following the passing of his mother and he has to shake his head, wish them away. "I guess you're right."

"It's alright," Veronica nods. "He'd been feeling ill for a while now. I've got to get things all organized before the ceremony on Tuesday and if I can do it with all these people around then it'll be a miracle."

"Veronica," A relative of Spencer's then calls, poking her head in from the office. "The lawyer wants to know if you can come in today for a reading of Peter's will. Oh, hi Toby, kids."

The kids offer her a wave and forced smiles and Toby nods in response. Veronica, distractedly, replies, "Uh, sure. When?"

"An hour."

"Of course."

"Mom," Melissa says, her voice wavering and tears in her eyes. Her cheeks are red and puffy and it's clear she's been crying for hours. "The florist's here. She wants to talk about the ceremony."

"Hi Aunt Melissa," Henry calls and she shoots them all a watery smile.

"Hi you guys," She steps closer and gives each of them an embrace and a kiss to their crowns. "Hey Toby."

"Melissa," He nods. "How're you holding up?"

She frowns. "Barely."

Veronica runs a hand through her disheveled hair and follows her eldest daughter into the kitchen. "Yeah, sure. Let's take care of that."

She turns back not a moment later to tell Toby, "She's upstairs going through Peter's things."

How she could've answered Toby's unanswered question is beyond him, but he nods his gratitude anyway. "Thank you."

To his children, he pleads, "Can I have a moment alone with your mother? Just a minute; I know you guys are dying to see her."

Grace nods her agreement. "Yeah. It's okay. We'll help Grandma."

Henry adds, "Aunt Melissa, too."

It doesn't take long to find her; she's in her parents' bedroom, placing some items into a box labeled 'Keep' and others into one labeled 'Give Away.' His heart aches at the intensity and purpose with which she works, trying so desperately to keep her emotions at bay. "Spencer…"

At her name, she whirls around and at the sight of him, she loses all composure. He holds his arms out to her, welcoming her grief, and she folds herself into his body, crumbling and dissolving into a mess of tears. Her entire body sags with sadness, her shoulders shake with sobs, and he holds her tighter, presses kisses into her hair every so often, and cries with her. Soft tears are rolling down his own cheeks, because he's been here; he knows exactly how it feels to lose a parent and no one had been there, no one had listened to him vent his feelings, no one had held him when he cried, and he won't let that happen to his wife, to the woman he loves most in this world.

When she pulls away, her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is running and he's sure this isn't the first time she's broken down since the news hit. "Are the kids here?"

"Downstairs," Toby replies quietly. "I asked them to give us some space for a bit because I didn't know which state I'd be finding you in. Although, I had a pretty good idea."

"Were you right?" She asks and he frowns.

"Unfortunately," He sighs and rubs her arms. "Did you see him? Did you get to say goodbye?"

"They brought us in to see his body after… after he died," Spencer hiccups, her voice catching on that final word. "He looked so… He didn't look like my father. I kissed him goodbye and he was already cold."

"Your mother says the ceremony's Tuesday?" Toby asks and Spencer nods.

"She wanted it tomorrow, but couldn't get the church," Spencer says. "She wants it to be over. I guess I can't blame her."

Toby presses another kiss to her temple, murmuring, "Are you alright?"

"We never got along, my father and I," Spencer smiles mirthlessly. "My mother always said it was because we were so alike, I was my father's daughter, and I _hated_ that. I didn't want to be lumped together with him. I wanted to be my own person."

"You are. You're an amazing person." Toby tells her. "Your dad was proud of you. I know he was."

"You know what the last thing he said to me was?" Spencer asks and when Toby shakes his head, she continues. "He called me last week and asked what I wanted for Christmas. I told him he didn't have to get me anything. But he insisted; he said, _what's Christmas without a gift, Spence? Humor me, champ. I'm sure you can think of something_. And I told him seeing him was enough because we never got to see enough of each other as it was and he said, _That's my New Year's resolution. To visit more. But we'll never get to the New Year without passing Christmas first and I can't just get you nothing_. And I said, _Gifts are for kids, Dad_. And he said, _Yeah. And you're mine. You've always been my little girl and you'll always be_."

Toby smiles and Spencer wipes tears from her eyes, reaching towards her father's bedside table. "Want to see what I just found?"

He nods and she pulls a small box from the drawer, tied with a bow. The tag on the front reads, _To Spencer, love Dad_. "Open it."

And when he does, Toby finds about a dozen chocolates resting inside. Confused, he asks, "He ended up getting you chocolate?"

"They're buttercreams," Spencer explains and tears are once more rolling down her cheeks. "He used to get them for me all the time when I was a kid. For good grades, for winning a game, or even just because. They were my favorite. And he still remembered that, even now, after all these years."

She lets out a sob and Toby gently sets the box of chocolates aside, pulling her back against his chest. "I know this is going to be difficult. Believe me, I know how you're feeling right now. I know how much this _sucks_. And I wish I could tell you that it eventually stops hurting. It doesn't. But he loved you so much and I know that you loved him. And that's what you're going to have to remember when things get really, really tough. That even though you'll miss him, he would've wanted you to continue your life and not get stuck on the morbid details. And I'm here for you, always, as well. If you ever need to cry or vent or rant or just let it all out, you don't have to do it alone. You're _never_ alone. Not even for a second."

She merely nods against him and then, there's a knock at the door. Grace's head pokes in, then, and she asks, "Is it okay if we come in now?"

Toby nods, smiling the tiniest bit, and Spencer looks almost hopeful at the sight of her children. "Grace. Oh my god. Come here! Come give me a hug."

She does so without hesitation and Lilly and Henry are soon to follow. Spencer wraps all three of them into her arms, much more difficult now that they're older and taller than the last time they'd done this, and she closes her eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to control her emotions. "I love all three of you so much."

"Love you too, Mom," Henry murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Are you going to be okay?" Lilly asks, tears still pouring down her own cheeks.

"I think I will," Spencer nods slowly. "I have you guys, don't I?"

Toby smiles at this and when Spencer looks up and meets his eyes, he does his best to convey to her that this is exactly what he'd been talking about. She'll never be alone, not as long as she has her family, her loving husband and three beautiful children, to help her through her grief, help her remember, and help her let go.

* * *

The doorbell rings and Spencer has to pretend she hasn't been standing by the window, anxiously awaiting her daughter's arrival.

"What the heck are you doing ringing the bell, Lil?" Spencer asks, grinning, as she opens the door to allow her middle child entry. "You've lived here your whole life."

"I don't know!" She shrugs, chuckling. "I thought it would be weird if I just walked in."

"Oh, nonsense. This will forever be your home," Spencer shakes her head, collecting her daughter in an embrace and sighing complacently. "How was the drive up? Not too bad?"

"No, it was fine," Lilly agrees, nodding and not letting go. "I'm just glad I could get away early! The roads are going to be packed this weekend because of the holiday and Sam was freaking out because he didn't want me to drive alone."

"Speaking of Sam…" Spencer beams, pulling back to demand, "Let me see it!"

"Oh," Lilly blushes and holds her hand out for her mother to see, her brand new sparkling engagement ring glistening in the early morning sunlight. "What do you think?"

"Are you kidding? It's _gorgeous_ ," Spencer admires. "I can't believe it. I can't believe I'm going to have _two_ married kids."

Lilly nods and exhales a bit anxiously. "You don't think it's too soon? I mean, I'm not even out of school yet."

"You're graduating in May," Her mother replies. "Do _you_ think it's too soon?"

"No," Lilly admits. "I love Sam. We've been dating _forever_ and… I've always known he was the one I wanted to be with the rest of my life."

"Yeah," Spencer grins with pride. "I know that feeling."

From the kitchen, Toby appears and a warm smile comes over his face, excitement in his eyes. "Is that my Lilly Pad? Get over here, sunshine."

"Hi Daddy," Lilly beams and wraps her arms around him in an embrace. "It's good to be home. I missed you guys."

"We missed you, too. I know you're busy with senior year and all that, but you could come home once in a while, you know?" Toby teases and kisses her crown. When Lilly nods and they pull back, he looks her over and comments, "Hold on. There's something different."

"I got a haircut," She shrugs. "Thought about getting bangs but I figured they'd look terrible on my face."

"No, that's not it," Toby considers and then takes her by the hand, exclaiming, "It must be the _continent_ you have on your finger! Spence, you think it's too warm to go ice skating on this rock later?"

Spencer laughs wholeheartedly and Lilly flushes crimson. "Dad, it's not _that_ big."

"Better take it off before you go swimming. You'll sink straight to the bottom."

"Oh my god," Lilly shakes her head, grinning. "So where's Henry? He's home this week too, right?"

"Not without complaint," Spencer shakes her head. "His spring break plans were foiled by a cheating girlfriend and a betraying roommate. He's supposed to be in Miami this week with a bunch of his friends and he will not let us forget it."

"That sucks," Lilly frowns. "And what about Grace?"

"She's running late, but she's on her way," Toby fills in. "She just texted me. But come in! Come in! Come have some coffee."

Lilly asks hesitantly, "Did you make it, Dad?"

"Yeah," Toby smirks, bemused. "Why?"

Lilly shakes her head, innocently glancing toward her mother. "No reason."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Amateurs."

In mere moments, Henry rolls out of bed to join the rest of his family for breakfast, his entire mood completely turning around the moment he spots his sister. They embrace and it makes Spencer's entire heart swell with pride. When Grace arrives, the three immediately take their usual seats around the kitchen table and launch into a conversation with jests and teasing just like the good old days. Toby places a few plates on the table, full of pancakes, bacon and fruit- their Saturday tradition- and Spencer merely watches their children, just watches, as they laugh and share stories like they've never been apart. It's crazy to see them, now; Grace is twenty-seven, married, and working for a publishing company, Lilly is nearly twenty-one, almost a college graduate and destined for her own wedding, soon and Henry, their mischievous baby boy, is now nineteen, a college sophomore who towers over both of his parents and still brings them to their knees with his kindness, sense of humor and generosity. Some days, it feels like ages and ages from where they began and others, like today, Spencer finds herself wondering where all the time has gone.

"Ew," Grace scrunches her nose, growing a bit pale. "Please keep this bacon far, far away from me."

"Oh god," Henry frowns. "You're not going to pull a Harper and go vegan, are you?"

"She's vegetarian, first of all," Grace smirks. "And no, I'm not, but it's just… It's greasy and disgusting."

"But it's tradition," Lilly says. "Pancake Saturdays _always_ have bacon."

Grace grows paler still and shakes her head. "No thank you."

Curious, Spencer asks, "You feeling okay?"

"Sure," She merely nods and pushes the plate closer to Henry. "So what else is new? Lilly, tell me more about this wedding! I'm so excited."

"Well, we haven't _really_ talked about it. But we're thinking maybe a fall wedding, because we met on the first day of kindergarten, in September," Lilly smiles. "And you'll be my maid of honor, right?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be honored!" Grace squeals. "I love weddings."

"You _used_ to love bacon," Henry points out and both of his parents chuckle as Grace purses her lips. "Tell me more about how much you hate it."

"No."

"Come on," Henry grins. "Is it the fat? It's the fat, isn't it? Or it's because sometimes it's chewy or burnt because no one can ever cook it perfectly?"

"Henry, please stop," Grace begs. "You making me want to gag."

"Why?" Henry prods further. "It's just a little meat."

"Meat makes me want to vomit."

"Wait a minute. When meat made _me_ want to vomit…" Spencer trails off and then gasps, tears coming to her eyes. "Grace… _Henry!_ Did you know about this?"

Henry merely shrugs, his grin even wider, as Lilly asks, "Know about what?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Toby wonders. "I'm totally lost."

"Hey, Grace only told me by accident and she _swore_ me to secrecy," Henry replies. "But if there's one thing I remember you guys always saying when we were kids, it's that families don't keep secrets. They're basically lies. Remember, Grace?"

"Unbelievable," Grace shakes her head. "All the rules you broke as a kid and _this_ is the one you want to keep?"

"Wait, are you really mad at me?" Henry wonders. "I don't want you to be. I thought you'd… I don't know. It's Mom and Dad. You're not on trial."

Grace shakes her head, a slow smile eventually blooming. "I'm not mad at you, weirdo. But _I_ wanted to be the one to tell them."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Grace," Spencer now has tears rolling down her cheeks. "Is it true?"

Toby and Lilly once more share a glance before asking, "Is _what_ true?"

"Well, I really was going to tell you myself and not until the three-month mark, when it's safe, and _definitely_ not today, because I didn't want to steal Lilly's thunder, but…" Grace inhales a deep breath. "I'm pregnant. Zach and I are going to have a baby."

"Oh my god, _what?_ " Lilly shrieks. "Congratulations!"

"Grace!" Toby exclaims. "My baby's going to have a baby."

"I'm sorry, Lilly," Grace pleads again. "I really wanted this morning to be about you and-"

"Are you kidding? This is the _best_ news!" Lilly shakes her head. "I'm going to be an aunt. As far as I'm concerned, we can share the thunder."

Grace laughs then and Henry adds, "This kid is going to be _so_ cool. He's going to learn everything from his Uncle Henry and you won't even know what hit you, Grace."

She smirks. "Great."

Spencer glances at her husband and asks, "Can you believe this?"

"I can't," He replies genuinely. "There's going to be another little one running around soon. It's been so long since we've had a baby around."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to become a grandmother," Spencer says. "But I didn't think I was ready to be a parent either and that ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me."

Grace beams at her mother, Henry and Lilly following suit, their tiny babies now grown adults and soon to have babies of their own. Spencer can't help but feel entirely and utterly blessed.

* * *

Veronica Hastings passes away a few days after Lilly's twenty-first birthday, quietly and peacefully in her sleep. Spencer is, of course, understandably distraught. She and Melissa plan and execute a beautiful ceremony and Toby sticks to his wife's side like glue. He's extremely worried about her state of mind in the days that follow; after they lay Veronica to rest, right beside Peter, they travel home from Rosewood where Spencer asks for an extra week off work and they grant her request, allowing her all the time she needs. Toby asks if she'd like him to do the same, stay home with her so she doesn't have to grieve alone, but she solemnly tells him she'll be okay, that she doesn't need to be coddled, and urges him to get back to work.

However, things change. The original cause of Veronica's death had been old age; the medical examiner had seen nothing out of the ordinary and had chalked her demise up to natural causes, but the autopsy results showed something a little bit different. Veronica had had a very large, very malignant tumor in her left breast that had then metastasized and spread to her lungs, ultimately killing her. A quick conversation with her primary care physician confirmed that Veronica had been battling cancer for over a year and even he seemed surprised that none of her family had known that. He then suggests that both Melissa and Spencer visit their own physicians for mammograms, because it's highly likely that the type of cancer Veronica had suffered from could be hereditary. It's a simple test, he says, to see if either of the girls have the "breast cancer gene," or the flaw in their DNA that could pose a higher risk for breast and ovarian cancer passed down from their mother. Melissa goes forth and makes both herself and Spencer an appointment. Spencer hesitates and considers bailing, afraid of the outcome Toby's sure, but in this case, no news _certainly_ isn't good news, and eventually, she decides to go.

And perhaps it's psychosomatic, but in the week leading up to the blood test and mammogram, Spencer starts to complain of actually _feeling_ ill and Toby's pretty sure he doesn't sleep for even a second. She gets sick to her stomach, she has awful, brain-splitting headaches, her breathing labors, her chest hurts, she's exhausted _all_ the time… And Toby watches this, Toby watches all of this, and suddenly, they aren't the sixteen and seventeen-year-olds they were when they first starting dating. Suddenly, they aren't immortal, they aren't _young_ anymore, and the prospect of one of them dying becomes very, very real. The night before her test, as she sleeps somewhat restlessly beside him, Toby lies awake, just staring at her, watching her eyelids flutter and her chest rise and fall, and tries very, very hard not to picture his life without her. He fails. His heart gives an unwanted, painful tug as he realizes that someday- it could be in thirty years, it could be tomorrow- they're both going to die and one of them is going to go first. One of them is going to leave the other behind. And Toby's not ready to live a life without her. He imagines walking around this big, lonely, empty house, he imagines coming home and cooking a meal for one, climbing into an empty bed… and tears come to his eyes. _No_. _Why are you doing this to yourself? She's right here, she's fine, and so are you_. It doesn't work. He can't stop picturing the broken, empty future without her; their kids, devastated and distraught over the loss of the woman who'd given them life, grandkids she'd never know, weddings and Christmases and reunions she'd miss out on. He starts when he realizes his pillow is wet and is utterly unsurprised when he realizes those tears stinging his eyes are now streaming down his face.

"Spencer…" Toby speaks, his voice low and guttural, to her unconscious form. "This whole thing sucks. It just sucks, I mean… First your dad and now your mom and you and… It's not fair that this is happening. It's not fair to you; you've already suffered _so_ much and so much is going on, I mean Lilly's getting married next month. Grace is having a baby; our first grandchild. Henry… Well, he's all over the place, but he needs you. The girls need you… _I_ need you."

He scoots closer, taking her into his arms and she exhales, murmuring something in her sleep. "You promised, remember? We made a promise to each other that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together; long, happy, healthy lives. We swore we wouldn't… we wouldn't leave until it's our time. It's not your time, Spencer. It's not. Don't leave me."

He doesn't realize she's awake until she cups his cheek, swiping his tears away, and when he meets her eyes, they're swimming in tears, too. "I won't. I'm not going anywhere, Toby."

"How do you know?" He wonders. "How can you be sure?"

"I've never quit anything; not in my life," Spencer says. "I'm not about to start now."

Toby swallows hard, past the golf ball-sized lump in his throat. "Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?"

"You sure you can handle that?" She asks and takes a deep breath when he nods. "Then yeah, I'd like that."

He leans closer and presses the tiniest, feather-light kiss on her forehead, whispering, "I'm completely terrified."

"I am, too," She admits quietly. "But I'm not my mother. If… If worse comes to worst tomorrow, I'll get treatment. I'll do anything I have to. I'm not ready to go; not yet. I want to be there when my daughter walks down the aisle and my son, too. I want to meet my grandchildren. I want at least another thirty, preferably forty years with you. I want to die when I'm a hundred and wrinkly and with you by my side, not… Not now. Not like this."

"Should we…" Toby trails off. "Should we tell them? Grace, Lilly, and Henry?"

"No. No, God, I don't want to worry them," Spencer disagrees. "Not yet. Not until they have something to worry about."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make this harder for you. I'm really not."

She shakes her head, framing his face in both her hands. "You're not. You aren't, I promise."

"I just love you," He exhales heavily. "I just love you so much and I'm fucking scared of losing you."

She says nothing at first, just pulls him closer, closer still, until his head rests upon her collarbone and her fingers are in his hair. She presses kiss after kiss all over every inch of him, before whispering, "I love you too. I love you so, so much."

She falls asleep again not long after. Toby wishes he could. He lies awake the rest of the night, dresses with red, sleep-deprived eyes and exhausted ministrations, and nods wordlessly when Spencer asks if he wants her to drive. He's not sure he could operate a motor vehicle right now; he's feeling much too anxious and much too nauseous to even entertain the idea. Spencer's hands are shaking when she reaches to turn the wipers on, but otherwise, she's calm. They sit in the waiting room and when the nurse calls her back, he can't go with her. Instead, he drums his fingers anxiously on his knee, trying not to pay attention to the death and destruction on the news on the television in the waiting room, and when she returns she looks neither thrilled nor distressed. She says they're awaiting the results and wait they do; it's nearly an hour before the doctor calls them both back to the exam room once more and Toby doesn't hesitate to follow her this time.

All tests are negative and she's completely clear, completely healthy. Toby lets out the breath he'd been holding all week and it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. And this is when Spencer cries, when she finally breaks down, and the doctor pats her arm gently and offers them a moment with the good news. She's wiping furiously at her eyes a moment later, apologizing profusely to her husband, who's immediately shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It just… It could've been so much worse; _so_ awful. And it's not. It's not!"

"It's not," He echoes. "It's okay. _You're_ okay."

"Oh my god," She exclaims and she's both laughing and crying now and they're both a mess. She throws her arms around him, holding him tight. "I love you. Oh god. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," He assures her and he's not sure he'll ever stop doing so. He doesn't want to ever let her go, but he must look her in the eye, must acknowledge what they almost faced. She looks inquisitive and he merely says, "I almost lost you."

Spencer shakes her head and kisses his lips chastely. "You could never lose me."

* * *

"I put a list of recipes in that red binder of yours; the one you used for history last year? There are step by step instructions so you don't set fire to your new place."

"It's okay. I don't burn _everything_. Just the cookies that one time."

"My cookie sheets are still charred."

"I'll buy new ones!"

"You keep saying that…"

Henry rolls his eyes, but there's a smile adorning his face. "It's alright, Ma. I can still come by on laundry day if you're going to miss that."

Spencer pulls a face. "I'm _not_ going to miss that. And don't call me 'ma.' Makes me feel about a hundred."

"Sorry," He grins. "I forgot about how weird you get about that word."

"Do you need anything else?" Toby asks. "I packed my extra toolbox just in case. You said your roommates are incompetent when it comes to being handy around the house, so I'd like you to be prepared, at least."

"Thanks Dad," Henry replies gratefully. "Yeah, thankfully you taught me everything you know or I else I'd be so screwed. Danny doesn't even know how to put IKEA furniture together, let alone build his own shit. And they come with instructions!"

His parents chuckle and Toby says, "Well, I don't have to worry about that with you, thankfully."

Spencer sighs and says, "Well… I guess you should go."

"Yeah, I do have to get to the leasing office to pick up my key before they close," Henry nods. "But we're having dinner with Zach and Grace tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Toby nods. "They found out the sex of the baby this morning. We'll find out then, I guess. It's absolutely killing your mother."

"I don't know why she thought it was a good idea to keep this a secret from me," Spencer shakes her head. "She knows what this does to me."

"I mean, it doesn't _really_ matter."

"No, it doesn't. I don't care if it's a boy or a girl, but…" Spencer sighs. " _She_ knows. So I want to know. I bet she told Lilly."

"How could Lilly find out? She and Sam are honeymooning in the Caribbean."

"Still! I'm sure she found a way!"

"You wouldn't let _us_ find out," Toby points out and she bites her lip.

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Hey, what's that saying?" Henry teases. "Fight like a… what? An old married couple?"

"Ha, ha, ha," Spencer shakes her head. "Come here. Give me a hug."

Henry obliges, pulling his mother in for an embrace. "Yes, shorty."

"Hen, don't call me that, either."

"I've been taller than you since I was in high school."

"Thank you for reminding me," Spencer says, holding him closer. "I don't care if you continue to grow until you're ten feet tall, you'll always be my baby boy."

"Gross."

"Not gross," She disagrees. "I can't believe you're leaving us!"

"Mom," Henry shakes his head, pulling away to give her a kiss. "It's only a semester. The complex is only two streets away. I've got an internship in the building next to yours."

Spencer purses her lips. "Still. You're not going to live under my roof anymore."

"You're the last one to leave the nest," Toby frowns as he, too, collects his son in an embrace. "You've got to understand how much this sucks for us."

"I do. I get it," Henry nods. "But I'll be back. It's only a six-month lease and maybe they're terrible roommates who aren't clean or have loud sex. Then I'll be back."

Toby chuckles. "You'll always be welcome."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "That bedroom upstairs will always be yours."

He grins and hugs and kisses both of them one more time before bidding them farewell and heading for his car. They follow him out, wish him luck, profess their love and then watch as his sleek car slips down the road and out of sight. Spencer turns to her husband, tears in her eyes, and says, "He's gone."

"Yeah," He frowns. "They're all gone."

Spencer wordlessly takes his hand and the two stroll around the driveway towards the back of the house. The porch overlooks the pool and grill, where countless pool parties and backyard barbecues have been held, and she takes a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions at bay. "What do we even _do_ now?"

Toby laughs. "I have no idea. We went from newlyweds to parents in the span of nine months- literally. We never had time to just… be us."

"Well we do now," Spencer grins. "We can do all the things we always dreamed of doing, right?"

"Yeah," He agrees. "We can go and travel the world. Have dates every single night. Take long evening walks. Sleep in or stay in bed all day together."

"Have sex in every room of the house," Spencer adds and Toby chuckles. "What? Don't tell me you weren't thinking it."

"I was getting there," He admits. "I am going to miss all the little things, though. Reading them bedtime stories and picking them up from school to hear all about their days and Friday night movie nights on the couch with a fire and s'mores."

"Saturday morning pancakes," Spencer adds, suddenly filled with sadness and nostalgia. "Cuddling in bed with them on cold snowy mornings. Apple picking and family vacations and teaching them to walk, talk, read, tie their shoes… It's been a hell of a ride."

"Yeah, it definitely has," Toby agrees. "It'll be an interesting adjustment, now, to say the least."

Spencer's phone buzzes in her pocket then and, startled, she jumps to answer it. It's a text from Grace reading, _Keeping this a secret feels like a punishable offense. It's a boy. Call me if you want to talk- I know Henry left today and I want to make sure you're okay. Love you and Dad!_

She grins then and tips the phone towards Toby to read too. "However, the future's looking pretty bright, too."

Toby beams. "A boy. We're having a grandson!"

"Oh my god," Spencer shakes her head in disbelief. "This is so incredible. I can hardly wait."

"You know what?" Toby decides. "This house isn't ever going to actually be empty. Because you know they'll be here all the time."

"Exactly," Spencer agrees. "And they'll bring their families, too. We'll have Grace, Zach and their little boy. Lilly, Sam and any children they have. Henry and whomever he decides to settle down with in the future. Our house is going to be filled with people, with love and with happiness."

"And with new memories," Toby says. "Not any more or less special than the old ones. The only time it might be a little lonely is when they're back home and it's just you and I."

"Lonely? That doesn't sound very lonely to me," Spencer disagrees. "You've always been all I've ever needed, Toby. And that's not going to change now."

He grins. "I love you."

"I love you, too," She professes and kisses him languidly. "Look at this. Look at everything we've done together; everything we've made and everything we've accomplished."

Toby nods. "See what happens when you never give up? When you have a little faith that things will turn out alright?"

"Yes," Spencer agrees. "Eventually, despite all signs of the opposite, they do."


End file.
